Reif's face was as frigid as the Earthman's. He said, "I am afraid not, Joseph Chessman. You are Number One. It is your statue that is in every commune square. It is your portrait that hangs in every distribution center, every messhall, every schoolroom. You are the Number One—as you have so often pointed out to us. My title has become meaningless."
Joe Chessman spat out a curse, fumbled the gun into his hand and fired before the Tulan soldiers could get to him. In a moment they had wrested the weapon from his hand and had his arms pinioned. It was too late.
Reif had been thrown backward two paces by the blast of the heavy-calibered gun. Now he held a palm over his belly and staggered to a chair. He collapsed into it, looked at his son, let a wash of amusement pass over his face, said, "Khan," meaninglessly, and died.
Natt Roberts shrilled at Chessman, "You fool, we were going to give you a big, theatrical trial. Sentence you to prison and then, later, claim you'd died in your cell and smuggle you out to the Pedagogue."
Watson snapped to the guards, "Take him outside and shoot him."
The Tulans began dragging the snarling, cursing Chessman to the door.
Taller said, "A moment, please."
Watson, Roberts and Hawkins looked to him.
Taller said, "This perhaps can be done more effectively."
His voice was completely emotionless. "This man has killed both my father and grandfather, both of them Khans of Tula, heads of the most powerful city on all Texcoco, before the coming of you Earthlings."