FIREGOD
BY WILLIAM SCARFF
Some are born to greatness, others achieve
the rulership of systems—but Merssu
wanted to be a god. All he needed
was a million years and a little luck!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Rocket Stories, July 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Your Majesty!"
D'hai Merssu, Emperor of All the Suns, Protector of the Galaxy, looked up calmly as his prime minister burst into the room. His lean, brooding face did not change expression as he watched the pale and perspiring man cross the flagstoned floor with a sharp, nervous patter of leather.
"Gently, Tors, gently," he said quietly, his eyes mocking under their overhang of dark eyebrow. "You're Prime Minister now—remember that. A prime minister doesn't come blundering into the palace looking as though the sky was falling. It creates unrest in the population. Try to remember that we're no longer a pair of obscure rabblerousers, trying to overthrow the Crown. We are the Crown now. Try to act like it."
"D'hai, the sky is falling!" Tors burst out unheedingly, "I have word that the Earthmen are driving beyond the Rim and into the heart of the Empire itself! Their ships are irresistible. They're winning battle after battle! And the people are restless! They say it's time the False Emperor's rule was overthrown. Some of the garrisons are rebelling!"
Still the Emperor's expression did not change. "So," he said calmly, "the Earthmen were not bluffing when they said they'd maintain the rights of the old Emperor."