Kill Me If You Can!
By S. M. Tenneshaw
Every five years the Autarch in power was
murdered. Bartol knew this was why he had been
picked as a stand-in for the reigning tyrant!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
June 1957
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Bartol stood on the balcony of the Grand Palace and waved, smilingly, at the throngs of people below. He couldn't help it; he struggled silently against the implanted hypnotic commands, but it did no good. He waved and smiled. And the crowd cheered automatically for their Autarch.
And then the energy bolt slammed against the metaglass window that separated him from the cheering crowds. It only took a fraction of a second for the beam to burn through, but in that fraction of a second, the automatic protection devices took over.
Bartol dropped as the floor beneath him dissolved, plummeting him into a tubular chute that slanted back into the Grand Palace. The beam sizzled hotly above his head, filling the balcony with blue-white light, and then Bartol was in darkness.
He was sliding down the polished metal of the chute, dropping and curving away from the balcony floor. Then, quite suddenly, a light appeared ahead of him, and he slid out of the tube onto a polished floor.
The Commander was standing nearby. A half smile played over his hard, thin, gray face. "You look very undignified for the Autarch of Apollyon. Get up."