"Lamberti!" Ilaria bit out.
The Pretorian Prefect, his hands outspread, stood on the balcony over Caesar's body. The white cloak with Liberacione on it fluttered about him. A couple of Pretorians came out with an amplifier.
"Friends, Romans, Countrymen," said Farouk Lamberti.
"—every available long-range ship to Rome," Ilaria's brittle voice was hacking out orders. "Every one. Contact every other base while communications are still working!"
"... a noble man. But not the man to govern Earth. No, not he nor his government. I bring you a new government. I, Farouk Lamberti, long his best friend, have done this not to him, but for him. For you. The Earth was not meant to be governed by a system of—"
"Yes, I said bomb Rome."
Sub-Tribune Rinaldi smiled. "But Kevin, my friend, we can't bomb Lamberti just when he's getting a good start."
Jay looked up. Kevin Ilaria spun around. "What?"
"Never trust old friends, Kevin. Colonel Di Orio didn't. He surprised us in the Radio Room and we were forced to put him out of the way. Also remember this: all members of the Liberacione carry gamma pistols."
Rinaldi pulled out his gamma gun and shot Ilaria through the middle.
Jay was horrified. He forgot where he was and when he was and what he was doing. All he knew was that there was a cyanide gun at his hip and that this man had shot Ilaria. His gun came up and sputtered.
The pellet caught Rinaldi just under the chin and burst. Rinaldi collapsed.
"Had a—gamma gun—not ... deadly. Slow-acting ... radio-activity. Hardly ... burned me. Come on—we've got to ... get back to the—Time building."
"Oh, no we won't. You're hurt. We—"
"Don't argue. Sergeant! Saaarguunt!" Ilaria gasped at the exertion of shouting. The Centurion ran in.
"We've got to—get to the—Time building."
"Rinaldi shot the Tribune. Rinaldi was a traitor," Jay explained rapidly.
Ilaria's gun clicked and the Centurion shuddered back and fell through the door. The gamma burst from his pistol hit the wall.
"God! Is everyone a traitor?" Jay demanded of the Universe.
People are easily swayed. It didn't take them long to espouse the new cause. They were helped along in their decision by the Liberacione planes hovering overhead with loads of KCN-H2SO4 bombs. The whispering campaign Lamberti had carefully started about germ warfare helped, too. Those who didn't switch over rapidly were jumped by the new forces. Tribune Ilaria in Louisville, Kentucky, in America held out as long as he could. Then the bombers came. And the Tribune fled to the Time building.
The building shook. A table shivered and a lamp shattered. A jet fighter flew close by the window and the Centurion watched fearfully as it flipped on one delta wing and fired a tracer burst into a PR ship. The defender exploded in mid-air.
Ilaria looked twenty years older than the man who had smiled and welcomed Jay Welch to 2054. He and a young scientist were preparing the machine to send the man from 1954 back to his own time.
"You'll have to leave the gun here, Jay." Ilaria winced as he bent over a set of dials.
"I'd like to keep the uniform."
"All right. Does that do it, Doctor?"
The scientist nodded. He looked at Jay. "It's ready," he said.
"This switch sets everything in motion, doesn't it?" Ilaria asked.
"Yes. That's the final control."
"Then ... I'll do it. I'd like ... to say something to Jay before he leaves."
The scientist hesitated a moment, then shrugged and left. The Centurion went to the door. He was a young man and fanatically loyal.
"You all right, Tribune?"
Ilaria smiled. "I'm ... all right, Sergeant."
The Centurion nodded and left.
"Sit ... sit down in that chair, Jay, and do your best to relax."
Jay sat down. A bomber roared overhead. There was a blast nearby.
"What will you do now, Kevin?"
Ilaria shrugged. "Fight 'em 'til they come in and we're sunk. Then I'll join 'em. Why—why die a martyr's death?"
Of course, Jay told himself. Logical. But Kevin had been so convinced. So utterly sure. Now he looked and sounded like a disillusioned old man.
"Kevin, I'm not trying to rub it in. But—"
"I know what you're going to say. I was so sure. Paradise. I was a firm disciple. Convinced. I believed in all of it. I—thought it would last forever. The perfect government. A permanentlyworkablegovernment."
Jay sat quietly. Ilaria reached for the switch.
"For God's sake," came the voice of 1954, "whatisthe perfect workable government?"
Ilaria closed the switch and the light blinded Jay. He felt as if someone had slugged him in the stomach. Slowly the machine prepared to send him back one-hundred years. It warmed up like a jet on a runway.
The light faded and Jay opened his eyes. The building rocked. There was a terrific explosion and part of the steel wall buckled. Somewhere a woman screamed. A squadron of fighters hurtled past, spitting fire and death. A bomber fell, exploding as it crashed into a tall apartment building. Jay's stomach twisted and he knew he was on his way. Ilaria took his gun from his holster and calmly placed its ugly snout against his own face.
"... the perfect workable government?" Jay's question of a moment ago reached his ears as he began to slip back, minute by minute, picking up momentum. Ilaria's reply came dimly.
"There is none."