was going to descend on you, bringing rape and murder with them. Have you found the Ionian strangers like that? No! You are living side by side with them now, and they are no different from you except that they expect less. Their world is even now crumbling, and it meant death for them to stay longer. On Io, their friends and relatives may be dying at this moment.
"Men and women of the new America, we plead with you not to fight our efforts to bring you the freedom you last nearly a century ago!" Samuel Cabot's voice shook as he said that. "There will be attempts to reinstate The Hundred. Only you can make certain that these attempts fail. Somewhere, at this moment. East Bayard is listening to my voice and planning how he can still that voice forever. Unless you resolve not to lose the liberty we are putting in your hands, Bayard will be successful. Americans, if liberty means that little to you, I shall welcome that death, wherever and however it comes!"
IT WAS a strongly moved little group in the broadcasting room who heard the last of his plea. Vanz's faded blue eyes were moist as he gripped Cabot's hand.
"Your words would have moved men of stone!" he gruffed. "I only wish we could stay long enough to watch the results. But we are leaving this hour."
Cabot nodded darkly.
"It's been a week now, since we left Good Hope Valley. What happens here is of lesser importance at the moment than what happens on Io. But you will leave someone to help?"
Tolek Serj puffed out his medal-freighted chest.
"I shall be at your service. I fancy I can hold up my end of a hard job."
All but Kris smiled. Kris was looking soberly at Margo. Dane, watching his face, knew what was coming, and his stomach turned to ice.
"Remember your promise when we left, Margo?" the Ionian queried. "That we'd be married when we reached Earth safely? I'm holding you to your word. We'll make it a double wedding—you and I, and Dane and Brooke!"
Excitment followed his suggestion. But there were two of the quartet he named who could not muster the ghost of a smile. The pupils of Margo's gray eyes were large and black as her gaze flew to Dane. Then Dane was turning as Brooke clasped his hand and squeezed it.
Margo colored, with the intent attention of the room focused on her. Old Tolek Serj was grinning broadly, and Kris' eager glance studied her lips. Her voice, when it came, was strangely choked.
"No—no, Kris! That wasn't my promise!" faltered the girl. "I said—when all of the people were settled here—we'd be married. I couldn't do it now, not knowing what is happening to the hundreds of thousands we left behind . . ."
Serj started to expostulate. But it was Kris, no longer smiling, who stopped him with a lifted hand.
"She's right," he said curtly, "Those were the words of the promise, if not the spirit of it!" He gave Dane a slow stare, laden with irony. "Surely you two won't delay your own wedding because of us?" he asked.
It was Dane's turn to snatch at elusive excuses.
"I—I'm afraid I feel about like Margo," he stammered. "I'll be coming along, of course, and—things are so up in the air, it doesn't seem—right, somehow—"
Brooke Loring's smile was the stab of a thin blade.
