"I see," I said. "And you think...?"
"We have the disaster all right in the form of the plague. Now you are here in an attempt to conquer that plague." She waved a careless hand at my consternation. "The Commissioner at Profaldo advised me of your coming. We still do have some communication left, you know."
Tepondicon, eh? It made my role easier. It fitted into my plans nicely. Before I could say more, she was conducting me down the corridor to the power room. She stood by, watching over me, as for a second time I made my necessary connections to the central conduit, and she followed me as I mounted my second transmitting set on a low revetment in the rear of the power building.
As I touched the clockwork into motion she grasped my arm.
"There is no need for you to leave immediately, Mr. Dulfay," she said. "I know very well that you have temporary protection against the plague. Won't you let me show you more of the city of Senar?"
My better judgment said no; my eyes said yes. She stood there smiling, carmine lips a bow of allure, agate eyes gleaming. She was clad in a dress of voltex, and the clinging material revealed every curve and contour of her figure.
An hour later I found myself in a dimly lighted cafe, surrounded by high-caste Ganymedians, Jovians and Earth men and women, all in various stages of intoxication—all, I knew, seeking to conceal their terror at the relentless death that stalked them.
I sat across a table from the Commissioner of Senar. She was drinking boca, and she was laughing gayly.
"Come," she said, "forget your troubles. Remember, you are Tepondicon."
But something was wrong. I could feel it with every fibre of my body. That man looking at me from the opposite table, for one thing. He had been too casual in his quick appraisal of me, too quick to lower his eyes when I glanced his way.