Phantom Out of Time
By NELSON S. BOND
AN EERIE NOVEL OF SPACE AND TIME.
Graed Garroway's empire on Earth was toppling,
smashed by the flaming vengeance of Dirk
Morris who struck from nowhere with blinding
speed and true justice. Yet such a thing could
not be—for Dirk Morris was dead, slain at
the brutal command of the Black Dictator.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1943.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Metal grated upon metal, a heavy gate at the far end of the corridorswung open, and footsteps stirred dull echoes down the quietprison-block. Neil Hardesty turned beseeching eyes to his friend andleader.
"Dirk," he begged, "for the last time ... let us share this with you?Please!"
Vurrth, the hulking Venusian, nodded mutely, lending his supportto Neil's appeal. Shaughnessey, Vurrth's earthly equal in size andstrength, rumbled deep in his throat, "Yes, Dirk. We're all in thistogether. Let's take the punishment together ... like men."
Dirk Morris shook his head. His voice was firm; his gaze calm andsteady.
"No. It's better one of us should die, than all. We set ourselves arighteous task: to rid the System of a madman and a tyrant. We pledgedourselves to fight ... to win ... or to die. Our first leader hasalready given his life that worlds may someday again breathe the airof freedom. A dozen of our comrades have paid the price of rebellion.Edwards, Johnson, Vallery ... our blood-brothers.
"Now it is my turn. But my passing does not mean we give up the fight.You, Hardesty, must take over the leadership of our little clan.When you have been freed, carry on! Find new recruits; rebuild ourorganization. Four against an empire is mighty odds, but if you foursurrender, the liberty of all men is doomed for generations!"
Fred Meacher said hopefully, "That's right. Someone must pick up thetorch. Neil, if you'd rather not, I'll bear the Message—"
"Never mind," said Hardesty. "I'm ready to take it. Well, Dirk?"
The footsteps were drawing nearer. Swiftly, coolly, but deliberately,Dirk Morris placed his lips close to Neil's ear, whispered a briefsentence. Hardesty started. His eyes first widened, then narrowed withincredulous surmise.
"Dirk!" he gasped. "But that's.... You can't mean—"
"Quiet!" warned Brian Shaughnessey. "Here they come! The skulkingrats!" He spat contemptuously on the floor as a band of armed menhalted before the cell in which the quartet was imprisoned.
The foremost guardsmen parted, and before the grille appeared a mantall and powerful, dark of eye and beetling of brow; a personage whoseinnate ruthlessness and cruelty could not be disguised even by theornate finery he wore. This was Graed Garroway, "Black" Garroway,tyrant of Earth, emperor of the System, Overlord—by force of arms—ofthe entire Solar Union.
He smiled. But there was little mirth in his smile, and no sincerity.
"Well, Morris?" he demanded.
"Well?" repeated Dirk stonily.
"Your time passes swiftly. Have you decided to tell your secret?"
"I know one thing," said Morris, "that is no secret. My time passesswiftly, yes. But so does yours. The days of your dictatorship arenumbered, Garroway. Soon the cleansing flame of righteous rebellionwill rise to sweep you and every evil thing you stand for from the faceof creation!"
Garroway stiffened, flushing with dark anger.
"You speak bo