"I've used my ring. If you want to get it over with, we can test him and
swear him in now."
They strapped him into a device that recorded pulse, perspiration,
respiration, muscle-tension and brainwaves. A sweatered specialist came
and mildly asked Wyman matter-of-fact questions about his surroundings
while he calibrated the polygraph.
Then came the pay-off. Wyman did not fail to note that the sub commander
loosened his gun in his holster when the questioning began.
"Name, age and origin?"
"Max Wyman. Twenty-two. Buffalo Syndic Territory."
"Do you like the Syndic?"
"I hate them."
"What are your feelings toward the North American Government?"
"If it's against the Syndic, I'm for it."
"Would you rob for the North American Government?"
"I would."
"Would you kill for it?"
"I would."
"Have you any reservations yet unstated in your answers?"
"No."
It went on for an hour. The questions were re-phrased continuously;
after each of Wyman's firm answers, the sweatered technician gave a
satisfied little nod. At last it ended and he was unstrapped from the
device.
Max was tired.
The sub commander seemed a little awed as he got a small book and read
from it: "Do you, Max Wyman, solemnly renounce all allegiances
previously held by you and pledge your allegiance to the North American
Government?"
"I do," the young man said fiercely.
In a remote corner of his mind, for the first time in months, the bell
ceased to ring, the pendulum to beat and the light to flash.
Charles Orsino knew again who he was and what was his mission.