Rebellious Stars

by Issac Asimov

  One in the audience cried out, “He would be one of us, not a filthy Tyranni.”

  Another shouted, “The Autarch was looking for the rebellion world to offer his services. Was that ambition?

  “Ambition should be made of sterner stuff, eh?” Biron shouted back, ironically. “But he would come to the rebellion world with an organization at his back. He could offer them all of Lingane; he could offer them, he thought, the prestige of an alliance with the Hinriads. In the end, he was pretty sure, the rebellion world would be his to do with what he pleased. Yes, this w’as ambition.

  “And when the safety of the movement ran counter to his own plans, did he hesitate to risk your lives for the sake of his ambition? My father was a danger to him. My father was honest and a friend of liberty. But he was too popular, so he was betrayed. In that betrayal, the Autarch might have brought to ruins the entire cause and all of you with it. Which one of you is safe under a man who will deal with the Tyranni whenever it suits his purpose? Who can be safe serving a cowardly traitor?”

  “Better,” whispered Rizzett. “Stick to that. Give it to them.”

  Again the same voice called from the back rows. “The Autarch knows where the rebellion world is. Do you know?”

  “We will discuss that later. Meanwhile, consider instead that under the Autarch we were all headed for complete ruin; that there is still time to save ourselves by turning from his guidance to a better and nobler way; that it is still possible from the jaws of defeat to snatch—”

  “—only defeat, my dear young man,” came a soft interrupting voice, and Biron turned in horror.

  The fifty crewmen came babbling to their feet, and for a moment it seemed as though they might surge forward, but they had come to council unarmed; Rizzett had seen to that.

  And now a squad of Tyrannian guardsmen were filing through the various doors, weapons ready.

  And Simok Aratap himself, a blaster in each hand, stood behind Biron and Rizzett.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Simok Aratap weighed carefully the personalities of each of the four who faced him and felt the stirring of a certain excitement within him. This would be the big gamble. The threads of the pattern were weaving toward a close. He was thankful that Major Andros was no longer with him; that the Tyrannian cruisers had gone as well.

  He was left with his flagship, his crew and himself. They would be sufficient. He hated unwieldiness.

  He spoke mildly. “Let me bring you up to date, my lady and gentlemen. The Autarch’s ship has been boarded by a prize crew and is now being escorted back to Tyrann by Major Andros. The Autarch’s men will be tried according to law and if convicted will receive the punishment for treason. They are routine conspirators and will be treated routinely. But what shall I do with you?”

  Hinrik of Rhodia sat beside him, his face crumpled in utter misery. He said, “Consider that my daughter is a young girl. She was led into this unwittingly. Artemisia, tell them that you were—”

  “Your daughter,” interposed Aratap, “will probably be released. She is, I believe, the matrimonial object of a highly placed Tyrannian nobleman. Obviously, that will be kept in mind.”

  Artemisia said, “I’ll marry him, if you’ll let the rest go.”

  Biron half rose, but Aratap waved him down. The Tyrannian Commissioner smiled and said, “My lady, please! I can strike bargains, I admit. However, I am not the Khan, but merely one of his servants. Therefore, any bargain I do make will have to be justified thoroughly at home. So what is it exactly that you offer?”

  “My agreement to the marriage.”

  “That is not yours to offer. Your father has already agreed and that is sufficient. Do you have anything else?”

  Aratap was waiting for the slow erosion of their wills to resist. The fact that he did not enjoy his role did not prevent him from filling it efficiently. The girl, for instance, might at this moment burst into tears and that would have a salutary effect on the young man. They had obviously been lovers. He wondered if old Pohang would want her under the circumstances, and decided that he probably would. The bargain would still be all in the ancient’s favor. For the moment he thought distantly that the girl was very attractive.

  And she was maintaining equilibrium. She was not breaking down. Very good, thought Aratap. She was strong willed as well. Pohang would not have joy of his bargain after all.

  He said to Hinrik, “Do you wish to plead for your cousin too?”

  Hinrik’s lips moved soundlessly.

  Gillbret cried, “No one pleads for me. I don’t want anything of any Tyranni. Go ahead. Order me shot.”

  “You are hysterical,” said Aratap. “You know that I cannot order you shot without trial.”

  “He is my cousin,” whispered Hinrik.

  “That will be considered too. You noblemen will some day have to learn that you cannot presume too far on your usefulness to us. I wonder if your cousin has learned that lesson yet.”

  He was satisfied with Gillbret’s reactions. That fellow, at least, sincerely wanted death. The frustration of life was too much for him. Keep him alive, then, and that alone would break him.

  He paused thoughtfully before Rizzett. This was one of the Autarch’s men. At the thought he felt a faint embarrassment. At the start of the chase, he had dismissed the Autarch as a factor on the basis of what seemed iron logic. Well, it was healthy to miss occasionally. It kept self-confidence balanced at a point safely short of arrogance.

  He said, “You’re the fool who served a traitor. You would have been better off with us.”

  Rizzett flushed.

  Aratap went on, “If you ever had any military reputation, I am afraid this would destroy it. You are not a nobleman and considerations of state will play no part in your case. Your trial will be public and it will become known that you were a tool of a tool. Too bad.”

  Rizzett said, “But you are about to suggest a bargain, I suppose?”

  ’

  “A bargain?”

  “Khan’s evidence, for instance? You have only a shipload. Wouldn’t you want to know the rest of the machinery of revolt?”

  Aratap shook his head slightly. “No. We have the Autarch. He will do as a source of information. Even without it, we need only make war on Lingane. There would be little left of revolt thereafter, I’m sure. There will be no bargain of that sort.”

  And this brought him to the young man. Aratap had left him for last because he was the cleverest of the lot. But he was young, and young people were often not dangerous. They lacked patience.

  Biron spoke first, saying, “How did you follow us? Was he working with you?”

  “The Autarch? Not in this case. I believe the poor fellow was trying to play both sides of the game, with the usual success of the unskillful.”

  Hinrik interrupted, with an incongruously childish eagerness, “The Tyranni have an invention that follows ships through hyperspace.”

  Aratap turned sharply. “If Your Excellency will refrain from interrupting, I would be obliged,” and Hinrik cringed.

  It really didn’t matter. None of these four would be dangerous hereafter, but he had no desire to decrease by even one any of the uncertainties in the young man’s mind.

  Biron said, “Now, look, let’s have facts, or nothing. You don’t have us here because you love us. Why aren’t we on the way back to Tyrann with the others? It’s that you don’t know how to go about killing us. Two of us are Hinriads. I am a Widemos. Rizzett is a well-known officer of the Linganian fleet. And that fifth one you have, your own pet coward and traitor, is still Autarch of Lingane. You can’t kill any of us -without stinking up the Kingdoms from Tyrann to the edge of the Nebula itself. You’ve got to try to make some sort of bargain with us, because there’s nothing else you can do.”

  Aratap said, “You are not altogether wrong. Let me weave a pattern for you. We followed you, no matter how. You may disregard, I think, the Director’s overactive imagination. You paused near three stars withou
t landing on any planet. You came to a fourth and found a planet to land on. There we landed with you, watched, waited, We thought there might be something to wait for and we were right. You quarreled with the Autarch and both of you broadcast without limitation. That had been arranged by you for your own purposes, I know, but it suited our purpose as well. We overheard.

  “The Autarch said that only one last intra-nebular planet remained to be visited and that it must be the rebellion world. This is interesting, you see. A rebellion world. You know, my curiosity is aroused. Where would that fifth and last planet be located?”

  He let the silence last. He took a seat and watched them dispassionately—first one, then another.

  Biron said, “There is no rebellion world.”

  “You were looking for nothing, then?”

  “We were looking for nothing.”

  “You are being ridiculous.’

  Biron shrugged wearily. “You are yourself ridiculous if you expect more of an answer.”

  Aratap said, “Observe that this rebellion world must be the center of the octopus. To find it is my only purpose in keeping you alive. You each have something to gain. My lady, I might free you of your marriage. My Lord Gillbret, we might establish a laboratory for you, let you work undisturbed. Yes, we know more of you than you think.” (Aratap turned away hastily. The man’s face was working. He might weep and that would be unpleasant.) “Colonel Rizzett, you will be saved the humiliation of court-martial and the certainty of conviction and the ridicule and loss of reputation that would go with it. You, Biron Farrill, would be Rancher of Widemos again. In your case, we might even reverse the conviction of your father.”

  “And bring him back to life?”

  “And restore his honor.”

  “His honor,” said Biron, “rests in the very actions that led to his conviction and death. It is beyond your power to add to or detract from it.”

  Aratap said, “One of you four will tell me where to find this world you seek. One of you will be sensible. He will gain, whichever one it is, what I have promised. The rest of you will be married, imprisoned, executed—whatever will be worst for you. I warn you, I can be sadistic if I must be.” He waited a moment. “Which one will it be? If you don’t speak, the one next to you will. You will have lost everything and I will still have the information I want.”

  Biron said, “It’s no use. You’re setting this up so carefully, and yet it won’t help you. There is no rebellion world.”

  “The Autarch says there is.”

  “Then ask the Autarch your question.”

  Aratap frowned. The young man was carrying the bluff forward past the point of reason.

  He said, “My own inclination is to deal with one of you.”

  “Yet you have dealt with the Autarch in the past. Do so again. There is nothing you can sell to us that we are willing to buy from you.” Biron looked about him. “Right?” Artemisia crept closer to him and her hand folded slowly about his elbow. Rizzett nodded curtly and Gillbret muttered, “Right!” in a breathless manner.

  “You have decided,” said Aratap, and put his finger on the correct knob.

  The Autarch’s right wrist was immobilized in a light metal sheath, which was held magnetically tight to the metal band about his abdomen. The left side of his face was swollen and blue with bruise except for a ragged, force-healed scar that seamed it redly. He stood before them without moving after that first wrench which had freed his good arm from the grip of the armed guard at his side. “What do you want?”

  “I will tell you in a moment,” said Aratap. “First, I want you to consider your audience. See whom we have here. There is the young man, for instance, whom you planned death for, yet who lived long enough to cripple you and destroy your plans, although you were an Autarch and he was an exile.”

  It was difficult to tell whether a flush had entered the Autarch’s face. There was no single muscle motion upon it.

  Aratap did not look for one. He went on quietly, almost indifferently, “This is Gillbret oth Hindrian, who saved the young man’s life and brought him to you. This is the Lady Artemisia, whom, I am told, you courted in your most charming manner and who betrayed you, nevertheless, for love of the youngster. This is Colonel Rizzett, your most trusted military aide, who also ended by betraying you. What do you owe these people, Autarch?”

  The Autarch said again, “What do you want?”

  “Information. Give it to me and you will be Autarch again. Your earlier dealings with us would be held in your favor at the Khan’s court. Otherwise—”

  “Otherwise?”

  “Otherwise I will get it from these, you see. They will be saved and you will be executed. That is why I ask whether you owe them anything, that you should give them the opportunity of saving their lives by yourself being mistakenly stubborn.”

  The Autarch’s face twisted painfully into a smile. “They cannot save their lives at my expense. They do not know the location of the world you seek. I do.”

  “I have not said what the information I want is, Autarch.”

  “There is only one thing you can want.” His voice was hoarse—all but unrecognizable. “If my decision is to speak, then my Autarchy will be as before, you say.”

  “More closely guarded, of course,” amended Aratap politely.

  Rizzett cried out, “Believe him, and you’ll but add treason to treason and be killed for it in the end.”

  The guard stepped forward, but Biron anticipated him. He flung himself upon Rizzett, struggling backward with him.

  “Don’t be a fool,” he muttered. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  The Autarch said, “I dont care about my Autarchy, or myself, Rizzett.’ He turned to Aratap. “Will these be killed? That, at least, you must promise.” His horridly discolored face twisted savagely. “That one, above all.” His finger stabbed toward Biron.

  “If that is your price, it is met.”

  “If I could be his executioner, I would relieve you of all further obligation to me. If my finger could control the execution blast, it would be partial repayment. But if not that, at least I will tell you what he would have you not know. I give you rho, theta, and phi in parsecs and radians: 7352.43, 1.7836, 5.2112. Those three points will determine the position of the world in the Galaxy. You have them now.”

  “So I have,” said Aratap, writing them down.

  And Rizzett broke away, crying, “Traitor! Traitor!”

  Biron, caught off balance, lost his grip on the Linganian and was thrown to one knee. “Rizzett,’ he yelled futilely.

  Rizzett, face distorted, struggled briefly with the guard. Other guards were swarming in, but Rizzett had the blaster now. With hands and knees he struggled against the Tyrannian soldiers. Hurling himself through the huddle of bodies, Biron joined the fight. He caught Rizzett’s throat, choking him, pulling him back.

  “Traitor, Rizzett gasped, struggling to maintain aim as the Autarch tried desperately to squirm aside. He fired! And then they disarmed him and threw him on his back.

  But the Autarch’s right shoulder and half his chest had been blasted away. Grotesquely, the forearm dangled freely from its magnetized sheath. Fingers, wrist, and elbow ended in black ruin. For a long moment it seemed that the Autarch’s eyes flickered as his body remained in crazy balance, and then they were glazed and he dropped and was a charred remnant upon the floor.

  Artemisia choked and buried her face against Biron’s chest. Biron forced himself to look once, firmly and without flinching, at the body of his father’s murderer, then turned his eyes away. Hinrik, from a distant corner of the room, mumbled and giggled to himself.

  Only Aratap was calm. He said, “Remove the body.”

  They did so, flaring the floor with a soft heat ray for a few moments to remove the blood. Only a few scattered char marks were left.

  They helped Rizzett to his feet. He brushed at himself with both hands, then whirled fiercely toward Biron. “What were you doing? I almost miss
ed the bastard.”

  Biron said wearily, “You fell into Aratap’s trap, Rizzett.”

  “Trap? I killed the bastard, didn’t I?”

  “That was the trap. You did him a favor.’

  Rizzett made no answer, and Aratap did not interfere. He listened with a certain pleasure. The young fellow’s brains worked smoothly.

  Biron said, “If Aratap overheard what he claimed to have overheard, he would have known that only Jonti had the information he wanted. Jonti said that, with emphasis, when he faced us after the fight. It was obvious that Aratap was questioning us only to rattle us, to get us to act brainlessly at the proper time. I was ready for the irrational impulse he counted upon. You were not.”

  “I had thought,” interposed Aratap softly, “that you would have done the job.”

  “I,” said Biron, “would have aimed at you.” He turned to Rizzett again. “Don’t you see that he didn t want the Autarch alive? The Tyranni are snakes. He wanted the Autarch’s information; he didn’t want to pay for it; he couldn’t risk killing him. You did it for him.”

  “Correct,’ said Aratap, “and I have my information.” Somewhere there was the sudden clamor of bells.

  Rizzett began, “All right. If I did him a favor, I did myself one at the same time.”

  “Not quite,” said the Commissioner, “since our young friend has not carried the analysis far enough. You see, a new crime has been committed. Where the only crime is treason against Tyrann, your disposal would be a delicate matter politically. But now that the Autarch of Lingane has been murdered, you may be tried, convicted, and executed by Linganian law and Tyrann need play no part in it. This will be convenient for—”

  And then he frowned and interrupted himself. He heard the clanging, and stepped to the door. He kicked the release. “What is happening?”

  A soldier saluted. “General alarm, sir. Storage compartments.”