Part 4 (1/2)

He turned to Taller. ”Are your priests also in charge of the health of your people?” he growled. ”Are their cures obtained from mumbo-jumbo and a few herbs found in the desert? Within a decade, I'll guarantee you that not one of your major diseases will remain.”

He turned to the priest and said, ”Or perhaps this will be the clincher for some of you. How many years do you have, _old man_?”

Mynor said with dignity, ”I am sixty-four.”

Plekhanov said churlishly, ”And I am two hundred and thirty-three.” He called to Stevens, ”I think you're our youngest. How old are you?”

Stevens grinned, ”Hundred and thirteen, next month.”

Mynor opened his mouth, closed it again. No man but would prolong his youth. Of a sudden he felt old, old.

Plekhanov turned back to Taller. ”Most of the progress we have to offer is beyond your capacity to understand. We'll give you freedom from want.

Health. We'll give you advances in every art. We'll eventually free every citizen from drudgery, educate him, give him the opportunity to enjoy intellectual curiosity. We'll open the stars to him. All these things the coming of the State will eventually mean to you.”

Tula's Khan was not impressed. ”This you tell us, man from First Earth.

But to achieve these you plan to change every phase of our lives and we are happy with ... Tula ... the way it is. I say this to you. There are but eight of you and many, many of us. We do not want your ... State.

Return from whence you came.”

Plekhanov shook his ma.s.sive head at the other. ”Whether or not _you_ want these changes they will be made. If you fail to co-operate, we will find someone who will. I suggest you make the most of it.”

Taller arose from the squat stool upon which he'd been seated. ”I have listened and I do not like what you have said. I am Khan of all the People. Now leave in peace, or I shall order my warriors ...”

”Joe,” Plekhanov said flatly. ”Watson!”

Joe Chessman took his heavy gun from its holster and triggered it twice.

The roar of the explosions reverberated thunderously in the confined s.p.a.ce, deafening all, and terrifying the Tulans. Bright red colored the robes the Khan wore, colored them without beauty. Bright red splattered the floor.

Leonid Plekhanov stared at his second in command, wet his thick lips.

”Joe,” he sputtered. ”I hadn't ... I didn't expect you to be so ...

hasty.”

Joe Chessman growled, ”We've got to let them know where we stand, right now, or they'll never hold still for us. Cover the doors, Watson, Roberts.” He motioned to the others with his head. ”Cogswell, Hawkins, Stevens, get to those windows and watch.”

Taller was a crumbled heap on the floor. The other Texcocans stared at his body in shocked horror.

All expect Reif.

Reif bent down over his father's body for a moment, and then looked up, his lips white, at Plekhanov. ”He is dead.”

Leonid Plekhanov collected himself. ”Yes.”

Reif's cold face was expressionless. He looked at Joe Chessman who stood stolidly to one side, gun still in hand.

Reif said, ”You can supply such weapons to my armies?”

Plekhanov said, ”That is our intention, in time.”