The breath of all present seemed to pause for a startled second, then their ranks split to give them room. There could be no interference in a duel, that was the law. There was courage in the Mutant, a fanatical valor that was mirrored in his eyes. He knew his life to be forfeit—and he intended to sell it as dearly as he possibly could.
Only the singing impact of the blades was heard, as the darting swords parried and cut, swirling streamers of unleashed power. And suddenly, the Mutant seemed to recoil upon himself, as if gathering all his reserves of strength, then he launched himself forward in a vertiginous fury of unholy speed. And that was his undoing, for Julian trained under Jovian gravity could more than match it, and the Mutant staking all on speed, had had to sacrifice his guard. There was a soundless flash, like the glare from a gigantic glass, and where the Mutant's chest had been there was only space, space lit by the spectral-blueness of the Dekka Star. The body fell a charred and twisted thing from which the watchers averted their eyes. The peculiar odor of disintegrated flesh stung their nostrils.
For the first time in living memory, a spy had contrived to enter their midst. Julian didn't care to think what would happen to the units who guarded and activated the Neuro-graphs that were posted the length of the entrance corridor. Still, it was obvious that only a mind of great power could have had the satanic ingenuity to plan an invasion of the Dekka's Hall of Sessions.
Julian Varon bent over the mutilated form suppressing an impulse to retch. It was unmistakably a true Mutant from Ganymede, where the dark flower of their civilization had reached obscure heights. The features of the man were unmistakeable. As he straightened, Julian raised his left arm exposing the tiny double star at his wrist, symbol of his rank, and belatedly reported to the Dekka.
"A Ganymedean Mutant, Serenity!" Julian spoke, facing toward the Dais where he knew Astran stood behind the veiling curtain of light shed by the diamond star. "This dubious honor is the second one tonight," Julian said with a mirthless laugh. "I've fought one bare-handed, the other with Power-rapiers, I should like the next encounter to be with 'Electro-cannon!' However, perhaps these two encounters are something of a clue. Surely," he paused and swept the assembled Dekkans with his eyes, "they must form part of a definite pattern."
"Please continue, Control-Facet," Astran's voice held a note of suppressed excitement.
"Simply that it has occurred to me, that while we on Io, the dwellers on Europa and even Callisto have been ravaged by this hellish disease, Ganymede has failed even to mention the scourge in their reports. Even taking for granted their genius for silence and intrigue—their aloofness from their sister-worlds' affairs, such a catastrophe as this Plague should have blasted them out of their shells, if they have been ravaged, too! If not," Julian paused deliberately, and into these words he put all the dynamic, irresistible power of his trained voice, "we should investigate, regardless of consequences!"
"Investigate!" Astran's voice held a grim sardonicism. "If what I intuit is true, we, the Dekka are prepared to underwrite Jovian history for the next hundred years!"
Julian sighed with a sudden feeling of exultance, and he knew why. Wryly, he was aware that what Astran termed "intuit" was an integer of vastly complicated cerebro-geometric figures; graphs of brainpower coordinates and emotional integers, whose tendrils root-like delved into the innermost recesses of the human mind. And Astran was perhaps the greatest Cerebro-Geometrician of them all. Quite obviously the scientists of the Dekka had been far from idle. And, the expose of the Mutant spy had been like a piece in a jig-saw puzzle falling into place and revealing the beginnings of a pattern of some sort, but as yet not clear.