The Rebellious Stars (aka The Stars Like Dust) by Isaac Asimov

Author:Isaac Asimov [Asimov, Isaac]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi., Science Fiction
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 1954-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Autarch gently toed the suit to one side and appropriated the larger of the padded chairs.

He said, ‘I haven’t had that sort of exercise in quite a while. But they say it never leaves you once you’ve learned, and, apparently, it hasn’t in my case. Hello, Farrill! My Lord Gillbret, good day. And this, if I remember, is the Director’s daughter, the Lady Artemisia!”

He placed a long cigarette carefully between his lips and brought it to life with a single intake of breath. The scented tobacco filled the air with its pleasant odor. “I did not expect to see you quite so soon, Farrill,” he said.

“Or at all, perhaps?” said Biron acidly.

“One never knows,” agreed the Autarch. “Of course, with a message that read only ‘Gillbret’; with the knowledge that Gillbret could not pilot a space ship; with the further knowledge that I had myself sent a young man to Rhodia who could pilot a space ship and who was quite capable of stealing a Tyrannian cruiser in his desperation to escape; and with the final knowledge that one of the men on the cruiser was reported to be young and of artisocratic bearing, the conclusion was obvious. I am not surprised to see you.”

“I think you are,” said Biron. “I think you’re as surprised as hell to see me. As an assassin, you should be. Do you think I am worse at deduction than you are?”

“I think only highly of you, Farrill.”

The Autarch was completely unperturbed, and Biron felt awkward and stupid in his resentment. He turned furiously to the others. “This man is Sander Jonti—the Sander Jonti I’ve told you of. He may be the Autarch of Lingane besides, or fifty Autarchs. It makes no difference. To me he is Sander Jonti.’

Artemisia said, “He is the man who—”

Gillbret put a thin and shaking hand to his brow. “Control yourself, Biron? Are you mad?”

“This is the man! I am not mad!” shouted Biron. He controlled himself with an effort. “All right. There’s no point yelling, I suppose. Get off my ship, Jonti. Now that’s said quietly enough. Get off my ship.”

“My dear Farrill. For what reason?”

Gillbret made incoherent sounds in his throat, but Biron pushed him aside roughly and faced the seated Autarch. “You made one mistake, Jonti. Just one. You couldn’t tell in advance that when I got out of my dormitory room back on Earth I would leave my wrist watch inside. You see, my wrist-watch strap happened to be a radiation indicator.”

The Autarch blew a smoke ring and smiled pleasantly. Biron said, “And that strap never turned blue, Jonti. There was no bomb in my room that night. There was only a deliberately planted dud! If you deny it, you are a liar, Jonti, or Autarch, or whatever you please to call yourself.

“What is more, you planted that dud. You knocked me out with Hypnite and arranged the rest of that night’s comedy. It makes quite obvious sense, you know. If I had been

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