Part 4

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_?"