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“There must be positive action. Captain. You are right in that. And yet, if possible, an outright break must be avoided. We are woefully underma
“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 pla
“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 i
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 thi
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.