The Star Virus

"We will not go into your failure to tell us about the artifact at an earlier date. Being renegade, you probably did not feel yourself bound to do so. But there remains the question of future relations. The artifact is now ours, and though your services would be useful, we cannot permit permanent participation except under the conditions prescribed."

"The lens is my property," Rodrone exploded. "Get that straight!" The leader waved his hand unconcernedly.

Sinnt spoke in a choked voice. "I will renew my vow, leader."

"What good is your vow? It has been broken once." Sinnt hung his head. For some reason the leader seemed satisfied.

"Very well, you may reenter our ranks, under suspended sentence of death, in view of your infractions. And your son?"

"The boy is not old enough."

"Nonsense, he is at a perfect age to begin training."

"Very well, him too."

"And what of him?" Insolently the leader flung out a finger at Rodrone.

"I think he would be unsympathetic, leader."

"Then disarm him."

Men closed in. Before Rodrone could move to defend himself, he was helpless. His golden gun was taken and expertly he was frisked for other weapons.

"We will not make any definite decision over him yet," the leader pronounced. "It is surprising what happens in the minds of men when they have been shown the truth. If he remains unchanged, we will dispose of him tomorrow.

"And now, we will take the artifact before Seffatt. He is anxious to see it. You"—pointing to Rodrone—"will accompany us in case he has questions."

Silently, with an air of ceremony, they were ushered through an assortment of chambers and then down some steps and into a large room smelling of strange perfumes. Rodrone could not avoid the impression of being in a place of worship. The walls were hung with intricate designs whose meaning totally escaped him. At one end was a plush curtain before which low tables were laid out with various unrecognizable objects like an altar.

Deferentially the lens was laid on one of the tables. The leader stood to attention, facing the curtain.

"This is the artifact, Master."

There was a long, suspenseful silence. Then, from behind the curtain, there came a whispering cough, growing until it took on the proportions of the Streall's gobbling man-talk. The voice was shot through with the resonant organ-tones which, in a Streall, betokened advanced age.

"Is it here, then? After so long, is my agony at an end?"

"Master?"

"It is too much, too much, to see it after so long. The oracle of the galactic plan!"

Even through Seffatt's imperfect intonation, it was possible to realize his distress and excitement. Sinnt opened his mouth to speak, but the alien voice burst forth again.

"Leave me, leave me! It is too much for an old being."

The leader turned sharply, exultation on his face. He gestured vigorously, and the visitors were bundled quickly from the room.

"This is a great day indeed!" he breathed when he joined them seconds later. "Did you hear the Master? The artifact is an oracle—an oracle which will teach us the galactic plan!"

Rodrone was not so sure that this meaning could be put so hastily on Seffatt's words. Neither had he ever heard of any "galactic plan."

"Isn't it true Seffatt is senile?" he said spitefully. "I'd say his mind's wandering."

The leader looked at him haughtily. "It is not possible for a diseased one to know the state of mind of a Master."

"Who are you calling diseased?"

"We are all diseased, friend, diseased with our humanity." He turned to Sinnt, "Are you ready to take your vow?" Sinnt nodded.

"All is ready. Your friend may watch too, to show him what it means to acknowledge the truth."

In an adjoining room, two men waited. One held a rod in an electric heater, while the other directed Sinnt to kneel and bared his back for him. The smell of hot iron filled the room.

The leader took his place in front of Sinnt. "What do you swear?"

"I swear to seek the truth," Sinnt intoned. "I swear to uphold the Universal Vision. I swear to do all in my power to assist in the unfolding of the Orderly Plan by which alone existence is justified. I swear to work, where necessary, towards the elimination of undesirable life-forms."

The leader stepped around the kneeling man and was given the heated rod, on the end of which was a glowing brand. "With this iron I seal your vow."

On Sinnt's back there was already the mark of an earlier brand, the mark of a curved cross. The leader applied the iron just below it and held it there. The iron hissed; Sinnt shuddered, but managed to make no sound.

For once, Foyle's blue eyes were wide open, and the lenses on his shoulder camera were dead. Rodrone drew him to one side.

"Do you propose to practice this barbarity on the child, too?" he asked angrily when Sinnt had risen.

"Not yet," the scientist said weakly. "He must be instructed first. The vows must be taken willfully."

A healing ointment was being rubbed on his burned back. The look of pain began to leave his face.