Double Star by Robert A. Heinlein

The critical returns were coming in now and everybody kept quiet, letting Rog with his pencil and Dak with his slide rule have peace to work. At long, long last Rog shoved his chair back. “That’s it, Chief,” he said without looking up. “We’re in. Majority not less than seven seats, probably nineteen, possibly over thirty.”

After a pause Bonforte said quietly, “You’re sure?”

“Positive. Penny, try another channel and see what we get.”

I went over and sat by Bonforte; I could not talk. He reached out and patted my hand in a fatherly way and we both watched the receiver. The first station Penny got said: “-doubt about it, folks; eight of the robot brains say yes, Curiae says maybe. The Expansionist Party has won a decisive-” She switched to another.

“-confirms his temporary post for another five years. Mr. Quiroga cannot be reached for a statement but his general manager in New Chicago admits that the present trend cannot be over–”

Rog got up and went to the phone; Penny muted the news down until nothing could be heard. The announcer continued mouthing; he was simply saying in different words what we already knew.

Rog came back; Penny turned up the gain. The announcer went on for a moment, then stopped, read something that was handed to him, and turned back with a broad grin. “Friends and fellow citizens, I now bring you for a statement the Supreme Minister!”

The picture changed to my victory speech.

I sat there luxuriating in it, with my feelings as mixed up as possible but all good, painfully good. I had done a job on the speech and I knew it; I looked tired, sweaty, and calmly triumphant. It sounded ad-kb.

I had just reached: “Let us go forward together, with freedom for all-” when I heard a noise behind me.

“Mr. Bonforte!” I said. “Doc! Doe! Come quickly!”

Mr. Bonforte was pawing at me with his right hand and trying very urgently to tell me something. But it was no use; his poor mouth failed him and his mighty indomitable will could not make the weak flesh obey.

I took him in my arms-then he went into Cheyne-Stokes breathing and quickly into termination.

They took his body back down in the lift, Dak and Capek together; I was no use to them. Rog came up and patted me on the shoulder, then he went away. Penny had followed the others down. Presently I went again out onto the balcony. I needed “fresh air” even though it was the same machine-pumped air as the living room. But it felt fresher.

They had killed him. His enemies had killed him as certainly as if they had put a knife in his ribs. Despite all that we had done, the risks we had taken, in the end they had murdered him. “Murder most four’!

I felt dead inside me, numb with the shock. I had seen “myself” die, I had again seen my father die. I knew then why they so rarely manage to save one of a pair of Siamese twins. I was empty.

I don’t know how long I stayed out there. Eventually I heard Rog’s voice behind me. “Chief?”

I tuned. “Rog,” I said urgently, “don’t call me that. Please!”

“Chief,” he persisted, “you know what you have to do now? Don’t you?”

I felt dizzy and his face blurred. I did not know what he was talking about-I did not want to know what he was talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“Chief-one man dies-but the show goes on. You can’t quit now.”

My head ached and my eyes would not focus. He seemed to pull toward me and away while his voice drove on. “. – – robbed him of his chance to finish his work. So you’ve got to do it f or him. You’ve got to make him live again!”

I shook my head and made a great effort to pull myself together and reply. “Rog, you don’t know what you are saying. It’s preposterous-ridiculous! Fm no statesman. I’m just a bloody actor! I make faces and make people laugh. That’s all I’m good for.”

To my own horror I heard myself say it in Bonforte’s voice.

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