LITMIR.BIZ

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said gratefully, "We awaited your signal, Dirk. When it did not come we grew anxious. Then Rima—" For an instant his eyes sought those of the alien girl, and there was a curious humility in them, an almost worshipful admiration—"then Rima came to us; told us the hour had struck. We issued our rallying cry. It…it was easier than we had dared hope. The city was like a ripe plum, ready for our taking. At every street-corner new hordes joined us. Even Garroway’s hirelings abandoned their old leaders to follow the standard of the fabulous Galactic Ghost."

      "Thus, you see," said Rima so softly that only Dirk could hear her, "you did succeed, Dirk Morris. It was the Ghost whose spirit forged this rebellion. I but stepped in when the moment needed me."

      *

      Garroway, who had been standing at the vision plate, staring as a man transfixed at the image of his own downfall, now turned to his destroyers. His dark eyes were haggard, his sagging jowls suddenly no longer the harsh features of a ruler, but those of a defeated old man. He whispered:

      "This, then, is the end? Very well—" A burst of his former defiance flamed in him. He forced a laugh. "You have won, Dirk Morris. And the death I promised you lies in store for me? Well…so be it. It has been a long game, but one worth the playing. Of one thing you cannot rob me…the memory that once I ruled the mightiest empire known to man."

      But again it was Rima who spoke. Her voice was like a crystal bell.

      "Not death, Graed Garroway. It is the right of none to judge that ultimate penalty on another. Exile shall be your fate. Those who know your system better than I shall decide which planet…or planetoid far removed from Earth…shall be your final refuge.

      "Neil Hardesty—" She turned to the listening captain—"send him away. Your new government shall sit in judgment on him later."

      Hardesty nodded, motioned to Shaughnessey, and the erstwhile Overlord was led away. With him were herded from the room, none too gently, those who had been his companions in the attempt to trap Dirk. Within a matter of minutes the hall was cleared save for a handful: Dirk and Rima, in her glowing pillar of flame; Hardesty, the Princess Lenore.

      In the Princess’ eyes glittered a great defiance and a great sorrow. She asked, "And I? I join my father in exile?"

      Rima looked at Dirk.

      "Well, Dirk Morris?" she asked.

      Dirk’s throat was dry, his mind confusion. He said, "Must…must I, then, be the one to judge, Rima? She saved my life…or tried to. Were it not for her—"

      Rima said gently, "You love her. Isn’t that what you mean, Dirk?"

      Dirk’s head turned slowly; his eyes met those of the Princess Lenore. And what he found there forced the answer from his lips.

      "Yes, Rima. May the gods help me…I love her."

      "That," said the Nadronian girl, "I know. And this also I know…that she loves you. Does she love you enough to join you in the new world which is the only one whereon you now can live? Enough to join you on Nadron?"

      It was Lenore who answered that question. She said simply, "I do not understand your meaning, woman who dwells in a column of flame…but this much I do know. Where Dirk Morris dwells, there would I dwell also."

      Rima nodded, satisfied.

      "That, too, I had expected. It is well. She will make you a good mate, Dirk Morris. I wish—" There was a strange catch in her voice, a catch clenched teeth upon her lower lip could not quite stifle—"I wish you…much joy…in my lost, beloved homeland—"

      Dirk stared at her aghast, uncomprehending. "Rima!" he cried. "Lost homeland? I don’t understand—"

      The maid of Nadron smiled wanly. Her voice, when she spoke, was infinitely gentle.

      "Surely you should know, Dirk Morris, that one cannot pass with impunity from one universe of vibration to another?"

      Dirk said, "You mean that you, as I did, have become a…a wraith to your own world? That henceforth you have no true existence on Nadron, as I none on Earth?"

      Rima nodded quietly, sadly.

      "But then," stammered Dirk, "if not on Nadron, where is your new plane of existence?" A hope caught and tugged at his heart. "Earth, perhaps? Our planet will become your new world?"

      *

      Rima shook her head. "No, Dirk Morris. The atomic pathway of Space-Time winds ever upward…not downward to a lower vibrational plane. When this protective shield, which already wanes—" She glanced with a swift, despairing apprehension as the iridescence dulled, and a crepuscular wavering dimmed its outlines—"When this shield wanes, I shall move…forward to a bourne I cannot guess. A better world, perhaps, or…a worse—"

      "No!" cried Dirk. He started forward, but within the blazing column a white arm rose in stern command.

      "No farther, Dirk. To touch this field means death!"

      "Rima!" cried Dick huskily. "Rima, you shouldn’t have done this. It wasn’t required of you!"

      "The quest of liberty," said the girl softly, "is the quest of all men, all women, everywhere. I was watching your progress, Dirk. When I saw you had been trapped, I knew someone must come to your aid, someone must carry out the plans you had so carefully laid.

      "My father was too old. The journey between our two worlds is…well, not without pain. So—" The girl smiled—"I came."

      "You sacrificed yourself," cried Dirk humbly, "for us. It is too much. Earth can never repay you, Rima."

      "I was repaid when you refused life at the expense of your own honor, Dirk. Now it is done I can tell you that on your decision at that moment rested the future fate of Earth. We of Nadron have ever hesitated in dabbling in the affairs of others. Had you proved unworthy of our aid in that moment of trial. I would not have made the journey.

      "And now—" There flickered in her eyes a shadow of thin, wondering fear as the veil of flame about her seemed to shudder—"the time has come for…parting—"

      "No!" shouted Dirk, as if by the very strength of his cry he could withhold the inexorable. "No, Rima! Don’t—"

      His cry ended in a little moan. For at that moment the shimmering column trembled and…vanished like the flame of a snuffed candle. The last vision of Rima to be burned forevermore upon the retina of Dirk Morris’ memory was that of a slim and gallant goddess, whiteclad, lifting a soft arm in salute…and farewell.

      Then…nothing.

      *

      Dirk turned away, shaken. He whispered, "Gone! Rima…gone…no one knows where—"

      Lenore said soberly, "She loved you, too, Dirk."

      "No. She never loved me. Not as I love you…not as you love me—"

      "It was a different kind of love," said the princess.

      "I will find her!" vowed Dirk brokenly.

      Lenore moved to his side quietly; the warmth of her beside him like the courage of a voice in the wilderness.

      "You and I," she breathed, "together, Dirk."

      And suddenly, though there stretched before him a new and greater quest than that recently acquitted, Dirk was consumed with a vast impatience to know again the lips of the girl whose nearness was a heady wine, challenging him to dare any danger. He turned to Lenore.

      "Together," he agreed. "But first I must return to Nadron to lay the plans. You…you will come soon, my Princess?"

      "Soon," she promised. "Soon. But, first—"

      She moved toward his voice. If she closed her eyes, she could not tell it was invisible arms that held her close, nor invisible lips that quickened upon her own....

      Thralls of the Endless Night

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