_"Within my heart, all ecstasy,
Within my eyes, all visions dwell.
Life--Death, I turn to rhapsody--
I am the deathless Philomel."_
TERRA--20th Century.
He swept the assemblage with a glance. Purposely he had stood for
seconds in full view. A perfect fop--as frivolous, as dangerous as
anything the Paradisiac harbored. The ultimate in elegance.
Julian stepped on the conveyor and had the illusion of being borne
along on a cataract of foam to where an immaculately garbed Ganymedean
bowed and led the way to a secluded platform embowered in the
geometrical interlacings of frost crystals. The panel in the table's
center instantly suffused with softest light as he sat down, and a note
like the echo of a forgotten song rang subdued.
"Venusin ... undiluted!" Julian ordered laconically.
Mentally he enjoyed in anticipation the exhilarating power of the
treacherous drink. It was precisely what a successful adventurer would
have ordered there.
He waited calmly, conscious that he was the cynosure of many eyes. He
knew a thousand dramas were being enacted in the sumptuous den, under
the masking surface of convention and social intercourse.
The place was like a gigantic cup abrim with beauty--so much of it--in
the decors, in the music, in the _flesh_, left him cold. A glowing
core of contempt burned within him at the overwhelmingly seductive
weakness it induced. Julian knew he had to be as invulnerable as
berylo-plast--deaf to all the mellower dictums of the heart. He was
here for one single, solitary purpose that was the all-embracing,
the tremendous _now_. To meet a bearer of information so secret, so
profoundly vital, that its possessor had not dared even transmit it
in the highly complicated secret code of the _Dekka_. For that he
had braved what he now realized was certain death. It was his task
to receive it, and pass it through channels that would reach the ten
Dekkan patriarchs.
Once more, as he had done when he'd paused at the top of the conveyor,
Julian raised his arm and almost imperceptibly made the secret,
immemorable gesture of the Dekka. He was impatient. There was no time.
Disguise or no disguise, he knew that any minute now, the Paradisiac
might erupt like a long-seething volcano. _Why wasn't the person he
was to meet here yet?_ Mechanically his fingers groped for the vial he
had taken from Fermin, and paused startled as he felt the unmistakable
outline of something hard beside the shape of the miniature vial. He
drew it out slowly, palmed so that no observer could discern it from
even a short distance. It was a tiny plastic disc bearing the words:
SUB ROHAN SQUARE. As Julian raised the glass of Venusin to his lips,
he swallowed the disc, which he knew would dissolve. _He already had
met the informant!_ The thought was almost shocking in its intensity.
It could only have been the Ganymedean designer! And yet, the message
in itself was disappointing. What could there be beneath Rohan Square,
the central plaza before the Temple where he'd met Fermin?
Already amidst the perfect glamour, the seductive illusions of the
Paradisiac, forces were gathering that no Ganymedean art could dispel,
and which were far from being illusory.
Neighboring platforms had drawn increasingly near; implacable eyes,
devoid of languor or of drugs, gazed with cold intensity at the
frost-trellised bower and its solitary occupant. The lighting effects
of the Paradisiac had changed, dimmed to an idyllic, translucent
twilight, while the music sank to undulations of the B flat tonality
that were magical--plucking at the emotions with unerring skill.
A draft of fragrance--the heady _florestan_ of Ganymede--made Julian
turn his head. Up the brief stairs of his platform a woman was
ascending calmly. Julian rose, a tiny frown between his eyes. He had
not sent for a companion; then he remembered his brief flash of passion
on the conveyor and wondered with startled dismay if these Ganymedeans
went so far as to read the most intimate thoughts of their guests! But
no, it could not be.
He shot a clear violet glance of keen appraisal at the girl. She was
a _true_ Mutant. Her utter refinement of features, the classical
loveliness stamped with intolerable pride were beyond doubt Ganymedean,
as was the hair, almost crystalline, that fell in shining waves to her
shoulders. The eyes, an enchanting shade of silvered blue, were smiling
with a secret amusement.
"Shall one intrude?" The ghost of a smile parted her lips as she sat
down, her priceless gown sweeping the platform with the crystal sheen
of water. She threw back a shawl as sheer and fantastic as the Veil of
Tanit must have been, with a gesture that only a very beautiful woman
can achieve.
"Enchanted," Julian answered conventionally, but entirely without
warmth. He offered her a drink. Maliciously he suggested _Venusin_,
certain it would be refused.
* * * * *
The girl let her glance rove over the wondrous spectacle on the stage
that had emerged from the floor in the center of the hall, and, her
smile was an adventure as she replied:
"Venusin ... weaver of chimeras ... like all this," she waved an
alabaster hand, "illusion ... dreams. But even our greatest dreams
_betrays_ us sometimes. Yes, let it be Venusin!"
Julian wondered, straining all his faculties, whether the veiled
warning were a prophecy of things to come, or the ironical skating
on thin ice of the enemy itself! And was aware that part of his mind
kept harping on the loveliness of this cryptic stranger. _What was her
purpose? Had she penetrated his disguise? Was she there to make sure
that under the miracle of art there was some one far more dangerous
than a dissipated Martian fop?_ His answer came from her slender,
fragile hands. _They were twining and untwining like lilies bending
before the wind!_
"Let's dance," Julian said suddenly with an emotion he would not
analyze. He rose and caught her roughly up to him. He saw her eyes go
expressionless with surprise, she was stunned a little. And before she
could recover, the irresistible power of Julian's arms had borne her
to the greater anonymity of the dance floor in seconds. One moment
the lyric quality of the atmosphere was part of them, and then the
illusion was shattered as the frost-trellised bower vanished almost
simultaneously with their leaving it. Lurid pencils of unleashed power
impinged on the crysto-plast table charring it, while the fragile walls
disappeared under the barrage. Julian saw a burly Mutant searching for
him, atom-blast in hand, while beside him another Dynast, his face
stamped with the excesses of Vanadol slipped into the pandemonium the
dance-floor had become.
With cold ruthlessness Julian aimed his electro-beam and saw the upper
part of the Mutant's torso disappear. He saw the other one near the
conveyor and the "electro" flashed again. The beam went through the
creature and struck the great conveyor releasing the imprisoned waters.
An icy geyser of liquid shot upward, and pandemonium broke loose.
All the lights went out and madness stalked the swirling humanity
that desperately sought to escape. He was in a maelstrom of fighting,
shrieking beings and a chaos of noise as tables and chairs crashed.
"Let me lead ... my eyes are conditioned to darkness!" Julian felt a
tiny hand grasp his arm.
"So are mine ... but who...." He could see dimly a tiny, slender
figure, scarcely five feet in height, completely masked. Then he
remembered the slurred accents of the artist who had achieved his
disguise. The Ganymedean already was scurrying toward the same
direction in which Julian wanted to go, to the right of where the
conveyor had been. Icy water already swirled around his ankles, and the
babel of sounds had risen to a crescendo of unleashed fear, when Julian
reached the plastic wall. The Ganymedean was ahead of him, and Julian
saw him press a spot in the smooth barrier. A draft of icy air struck
his face as an aperture appeared. He dived in.
* * * * *
They must have traveled miles before Julian's Ganymedean guide began
to falter, then stopped. The being had silently ignored every question
thus far, and twice had asked for silence. Now he turned on a tiny
pencil beam and surveyed their surroundings. It was a cavern, musty and
icy in temperature; great festoons of dust held together by age-old
cobwebs hung from the curved ceiling.
The Ganymedean went directly to a section of the rocky wall on the
left, and searched the crumbling surface minutely with the pencil-beam
until he found what he sought; he made an odd twisting motion with
fingers pressed to the wall, and a circular section slid inward; beyond
was another tunnel ending in a seemingly blank wall.
"You will find a metal disk in the exact center of the wall," the
Ganymedean explained hurriedly. "Blast it with your electro-beam.
It is the mechanism of a door, the combination to which we do not
possess. Be prepared to _destroy instantly everything that meets your
eyes_--everything!" He motioned for Julian to enter the tunnel. "You
will have only seconds to achieve your purpose. And remember, your
life's already forfeit, so do not hesitate now!"
"But what _is_ behind that door?" Julian asked, exasperated. "I have a
right to know!" He laid a detaining hand on the Ganymedean's shoulder.
"_I must know!_"
By the spectral radiance of the pencil-beam, the artist eyed Julian
with a strange expression in his eyes. "As you will, Dekkan," the
being shrugged his shoulders. "You will find a laboratory ... if you
live to reach it. It is doubly guarded, although even the Dynasty
does not suspect the existence of that door, for it is part of the
remains of our own subterranean system. Beyond it ..." the Ganymedean
paused, "in that laboratory is stored the blood-plasma of Mutants who
have voluntarily submitted to _innoculation with a certain disease_.
The resulting modified virus is the _Plague_. It's like a vaccine
magnified a thousand times--its victims do not die, they merely become
_sterile_!" The Ganymedean turned toward where the corridor curving to
the right was lost to view. "I go that way," he said simply. "My place
is here."
"But ... your message on the disc ... you mentioned Rohan Square!"
Julian exclaimed. "If I survive this, how can I...."
"_You are standing beneath Rohan Square, and the Temple, Dekkan!_"
And that was all. Suddenly he was gone like a wraith that melted into
the darkness and the silence, his footsteps muted by the velvet carpet
of dust. Julian hesitated no longer.
He found the metal disc in the wall, and with the "electro" at low
power destroyed the ancient mechanism of the door. As if released
from the bond that for so long had held it, the great section rolled
back with a crash, carrying away with it a jagged section of plastic
covering from its other side. Julian had a vivid glimpse of startled,
silver-haired technicians who stared unbelieving at the strange
apparition. In that dazed moment of inaction, Julian acted. _He was
in!_ The lethal power of the electro-beam in his hand swept like a
scythe through the group of Mutants. It was ghastly. The blasted sides
of culture vats poured their viscous contents on the floor. There was
a livid, billowing flare of incandescence as acids were struck. It
was a welter of destruction and supernal fire that roared into the
laboratory before any of the Mutants had a chance to act. The acrid
smoke, the odor of disintegrated flesh was like a heavy pall. Through
it, galvanized figures could be seen descending a winding staircase
that led upward from the subterranean lab. The Guards!
V
Julian poured a withering barrage at the plastic staircase, and saw it
disintegrate into golden, dancing motes that merged with the advancing
curtain of fire. He could hear frantic commands shouted from above as
power beams crossed and criss-crossed the lab. The raging maelstrom
was unbearable now, and Julian retreated toward the tunnel. Almost at
the doorway a ponderous section of plastic from the caving ceiling
struck him on the left shoulder and fractured his collar bone. He held
his left arm at the elbow to support the broken clavicle and sprinted
down the tunnel to the corridor. Muffled explosions behind him fed
the cataract of fire. He pushed shut the circular section of wall
and followed as fast as he was able in the direction he had seen the
Ganymedean disappear.
The corridor seemed endless. Even his tremendous strength was taxed.
Charred, the magnificent costume in tatters, his left side a gory
welter of blood, he kept on doggedly, on and on, the unnerving fear
in his heart--not for his life--but that he might not be able to
transmit to the _Dekka_ the ghastly solution of their problem. He kept
forcing his legs, and was amazed when a draft of pure, frigid air smote
his feverish face. He found himself by the shores of Ganymede's one
and only shallow sea. Above him the stars were like freshly washed
diamonds; the icy harshness of the wind was like a tonic.
He saw a tiny light describe a parabola overhead, and to his mind,
inconsequentially came the lines from a famous poem:
"_And an errant star falls rapt and free,
In the blue cup of the sea...._"
And then Julian realized it was no star. He followed with a vast
unbelieving wonder, the tiny light winking on and off. _He knew that
code!_ Beyond he saw the tremendous looming shadows he had thought
to be clouds. For an instant, Time stood still. Julian reeled with a
surging wave of relief that was like pain in its intensity. Frantically
he worked the wrist transmitter on his useless left arm, while waves
of nausea rolled over him, receded and rolled again. He would never
know how long he stood there, sending that long-repeated, incoherent
message, until his mind spinning down the labyrinth of unconsciousness
brought peace....
* * * * *
It was a universe later. The blessed peace of _Vanadol_ had vanished
pain. Sulfalixir was cutting through the darkness in his brain like a
bright sun. Julian opened his eyes and stared ... stared into a face
that reminded him of tele-photos that preserved archaic illustrations
of ancient Saints. It was hallowed in the bright patina of silver hair,
but it was no Mutant, a virile aura of power shone in those intensely
blue eyes.
The "Saint" smiled; the fact was illumined as if with an inner light.
"Peace, Varon! There's no need to speak for we have the information.
You gave it to us--piece-meal--I must say." He smiled with kindly
humor. "But you gave it. We have synchronized and correlated what you
told us in the transmitter before you went to the Paradisiac, and your
later message from the shore."
"_That voice ... that voice!_" The thought blotted out all else in
Julian's mind. It could not be, it was incredible, and yet, no one
else in his experience had just that tonal quality ... those ironic
overtones....
"You probably wondered," the "Saint" was speaking again, "when you saw
our signal, how the Dekkan fleet could be above Ganymede unchallenged.
Look!" He activated a telesolidograph standing by the side of Julian's
bed.
"Every inhabited Moon has its fleet here tonight, my son. When we
flashed them the news you gave us of the laboratory where the _Plague_
germs were kept, and of the incredible plan of the Dynasts--the
Mutants, they came on at full power. Enough to blast Ganymede out of
its orbit! The plan was the most fiendish, the most ingenious weapon of
war ever conceived! You must have guessed it of course ... for fifty
years they infected our people in slowly increasing numbers, until at
last they let loose the Plague."
"Narda ...." Julian began as memory agonizingly came back.
"That is the name you kept repeating with every other word in your
delirium," the stranger smiled. "A Techno-Star, as we found out. She of
course, will be one of the very first to be given the antidote, Varon."
"Antidote...." Julian's voice was opaque with wonder, it was as if his
heart had lurched in his chest.
"You brought it," the silver-haired stranger replied. "In the
_Panagran_ vial you took from the Arch-Mutant. Our scientists
are already reproducing it. It acts both as an immunizer and an
antidote. The Mutants had to develop it as a safeguard for the native
Ganymedeans. It was the only way they could be assured of even their
reluctant loyalty. And the Mutants didn't dare war against the
Ganymedeans--they still possess ancient weapons that the Dynasty
could not cope with. I wish we could obtain some of them," he sighed
wistfully. "What a strangely stubborn race...."
But Julian was scarcely listening, an upsurging volcano of hope had
set his whole being afire with the immortal, singing flame. Narda ...
himself!... He closed his eyes against the tremendous psychic strain.
"Once more open war has been averted by a hair's breadth--I'm a little
bit sorry, in a way, _Serenity_."
Julian opened his eyes startled. "Serenity? You mean '_Control-Facet_.'
You _are_ Astran, aren't you?"
"Of course, my son! _Don't try to tell me what I mean!_" He smiled
with feral delight, then: "We're going to bomb the temple to its
foundations--a mere token, of course. I shall have you carried to the
observation tower.... It will be a welcome sight. Will you do us the
honor of directing the routine, _Serenity_?"