"You can not touch me," said Guy in a hard, cool voice. "I am impregnable. You will never be able to touch me!"
"You stinker," snarled Space Marshal Mantley.
Guy faced Thomakein next. "Have you anything to say?" he snapped.
"We are defeated," said Thomakein. "What would you have me say?"
Guy turned to the Martian. "Marshal Ilinoran, any comment?"
"We are defeated—but we need take no insult! What have you in mind?"
"At the present time, the carriers of your fleets are being packed with your men. Some of them will remain, of course. But I like the size of your fleet, gentlemen. I'm keeping most of it for my own. I have prepared a little proclamation which you may take back to your respective governments. I, gentlemen, proclaim myself the Emperor of Sol!"
"Megalomaniac!"
"As Emperor of Sol, I will tell you," continued Guy, indifferent to the snarl, "how and when to collect the yearly tribute from each and every Terran, Martian, and Ertinian. You may suit yourselves to any other arrangements. Mephisto is mine, and will stay mine. But I shall require money, merchandise, and supplies to stock the planet.