The insignia were dropped into a small box, which was then burned so that no trace of the original shapes remained. During the firing of the insignia, Guy stood woodenly. His former friends looked past him, through him, ignoring him. They arose and filed out of the room, leaving Guy standing alone.
Completely alone.
He stood on the edge of the great spaceport and watched the activity. It was hard to realize that he was no longer a part of it; he knew that he could return as soon as he grew tired of going hungry, of finding no work, of being without a single friend. But before he did that—well, he was not reduced to starvation yet. Perhaps something would turn up.
He heard a footstep beside him, and found it was Kane.
"Sorry," he said to the publisher.
"So am I, Guy. But I believe with you. You should have been permitted your little secret. Would they have preferred another Mephisto? A planet such as you describe ruined and sterilized because of pride? No—and believing that I know the mettle of the people on that mysterious planet, I know that they'd die before they'd permit invasion. Right?"
"Absolutely. That's why I did nothing. They were human, Kane, as you and I are human. A dead specimen is no good in a zoo."
"I know. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."