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"You all know this young lady," the announcer's voice went on. "The beloved and lovable Sweetheart of Mars, the bride of Scar Balta " The Martian's sleek and well-groomed head appeared beside that of the girl. " Scar Balta, whose services to Mars have been great beyond his years; who, in the threatening war with Earth, would be one of our greatest bulwarks of security."
But his last conscious thought of her had nothing to do with her connection with this planet of intrigue, but the soft curve of her throat. Scar Balta
During the interval between the pogrom of Warsaw and that of Balta the Government was preparing for the Jews a series of legislative pogroms.
"I wish to have an explicit understanding with you as to our proceeding next week at our conference with the financial delegates. Sit here, close to me. It is not necessary for us to shout our business to the world." Balta took the chair beside Wilcox, and they conversed in low tones. "First of all," Wilcox wanted to know, "how is your affair with the Princess Sira progressing?"
He pressed a button; two Martian soldiers answered promptly. "Take this man to the cell," Balta ordered. "Provide him with writing materials so that he can write a last message to his family. In the morning take him to the end of the ravine and finish him with your short sword." "Yes, Colonel!" "The fellow's a colonel, anyway," Sime thought as they led him away.
She wouldn't mind sitting on the throne again. Her great-great-grandpa was jobbed and murdered, and the nobles who did it formed a closed corporation and called it a republican government. So Sira started holding audiences, and gained a lot of power. Among the people even among some of the nobles. "Get the idea? Scar Balta is one of the electors.
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