She laughed.

"You? Ugly? By all the Names, you are the most beautiful creature that lives. Turn now and fall upon your knees. Adore me. I shall require sexual worship of you, and then I shall confirm you as my servant forever."

He turned and finally beheld her face. Then he fell upon his knees and lowered his head.

_______________

When he awakened, Malacar gave himself a genuine injection he had had ready, a tranquilizer. The first one he had taken had been distilled water. He did not allow himself to look at the globe during this time.

Then he rose to administer similar medication to the still unconscious Morwin. He hesitated, however.

_Why is he still out, Shind?_

_The full strength of the death-dream came upon him in conjunction with his using his shaping power. It seems to have given it more force_.

_In that case, I am going to give him a sedative and put him to bed_.

It was only after this was done that he returned to the laboratory and considered the globe.

He felt prickly sensations in unlikely places.

God! That's it! he decided. That is exactly what I saw! I never realized he was that good! He actually succeeded in stuffing a nightmare inside that globe. It is perfect. Too perfect, in fact. I did not want a work of art. That is what it is, though, when you see it like this--fully conscious. I think he does make small alterations ... I will never know, for certain. --All I had wanted was a nasty, striking item to ship to the High Command in SEL--from Malacar, with love--to let them know I am on to their latest--to warn them. I wanted to tell them, by this, what I am going to try to do to their whole bloody CL. I will fail, of course, but I grow older and there is no successor in sight. When I do try that big one, it will be all over. They will be frightened of the DYNAB again, for a time. Perhaps during that time another Malacar will come along. That is what I will be praying when I carry the bomb into their E-Room. I almost hate to give them the globe, though. Too bad Morwin went over. He isn't a bad sort. Those globes of his... Globes ... What the hell!

He searched the laboratory. Not locating what he sought, he tried the monitor, checking all the rooms in the citadel.

_All right, Shind. Where are you hiding?_

No response.

_I know you have some sort of mind-lock on me. I want you to release it_.

Nothing.

_Look, you know I can break it, now that I know it exists. It may take me several days, weeks even. But I will get through it. Save me the trouble_.

There came to him the mental equivalent of a sigh.

_I only did it for your own good_.

_Whenever people start talking to me about my own good, I reach for my gun_.

_I would like to discuss the advisability of not removing it before_--.

_Take it off! That's an order! No discussion! Take it off the easy way now, or I will have to sweat it the hard way later. Either way, it is coming off_.

_You are a very stubborn man, Commander_.

_You're damiwd right I am! Now!_

_As you say, sir. It will be easier if you calm down a bit_.

_I _am_ calm_.

There came the sensation of a dark bird passing through his head.

_The globe, Dr. Pels... Of course!_

_Now that you recall it, you can see that it is slim indeed. The stuff of dreams; an impossible, bootstrap-type paradox_--.

_But you felt strongly enough about it to attempt to suppress my memories of the matter. --No, Shind. There is something here that bears further inquiry_.

_What are you going to do?_

_I am going to read Pels' latest papers, and I am going to ascertain where his current interests lie. I am also going to determine his present physical whereabouts_.

Once more, there came to him the mental equivalent of a sigh.

That night he sent a request for a special messenger ship to come to Earth and pick up a parcel for delivery to the High Command on Elizabeth. The expense would be astronomical, but his credit was good. He personally crated the globe and included a "Gentlemen: Best wishes. --Malacar Miles, Fit. Cdr., Ret., 4th Stir., DYNAB" note. Then he began reading--and in some cases rereading--the writings of pathologist Larmon Pels.

When morning lightened the mists over Manhattan, he was still reading. He glanced at his notes. Aside from jottings with respect to medical items in which he was personally interested, he had written only two things he felt to be important: "Deiban fever" and "Special interest in the H case."

At that point, he debated retiring, decided against it, hit himself with a stimulator.

Morwin might have something else I want, he decided.

Later that day, as they sat to lunch, Morwin was saying, "... Pretty rough one you sprang on me, sir. I've done things verging on nightmare before, but nothing that emotionally charged. It kind of drained me. I didn't mean to pass out on you like that, though."

"I'm sorry I did it to you. I hadn't guessed it would affect you the way it did."

"Well ..." Morwin smiled and took a sip of coffee. "I'm glad you liked it."

"You're sure you won't take my money?"

"No thanks. --May I go to the upper deck again after lunch, to see the volcano?"

"Certainly. I'll go with you. Finish up, and we'll take a walk."

They rose to the upper levels, where they looked out and down and around. The sun had changed portions of the prospect to golden confetti. The collapsed skyline leaned like an ancient fence. Fires bubbled orange within a dark caidron. Molten stones were fired upward, filling portions of the air like flak. Occasionally, a faint tremor was felt. \Vhen the winds rose or shifted there was sometimes a parting of the agitated curtain; then sections of the dark Atlantic, especially that neck which curved inward, lapping about the base of the cone, would become visible through the distorting lens of the gases. The leaves of the man-thick vines grew green at their bases; the upper ones were black as crows.

"... Hard to believe that the whole world is like this," Morwin was saying, "and that it happened during our lifetimes."

"Ask the CL about it. They did it."

"... And that nobody will ever live here again, on the home planet."

"I live here--to remind them of their guilt, to stand as a warning of their own fate."

"... There are many worlds such as this once was. There are millions of innocent persons on them."

"In reaching all the guilty one sometimes strikes the innocent as well. Generally, I'd say. It is the way of revenge."

"And if revenge is abandoned, a few generations will level both the guilty and the innocent, anyhow. The new generation, at least, will be totally blameless for this--and worlds will endure."

"That's too philosophical an outlook to accept--for a man who has lived through some of the things I have."

"I lived through them too, sir."

"Yes, but--"

He bit off his words.

They stared outward for a time, then, "Has that disease specialist, Larmon Pels, stopped by Honsi recently?" Malacar asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Was he here too?"

"Some time ago. What was he looking for on your world?"

"Some general medical information, vital statistics and a man who wasn't there."

"The man ... ?"

"Hyneck, or something like that, I believe. There was no record of him with us either, though. --Look at that flare-up, will you?"

H? Malacar asked himself. Could this Hyneck or whatever be the disease pool? I never heard of him either, but if he is--.

_Deiban fever has, for the first time, been detected on worlds other than Deiba_, he remembered reading. _It is invariably fatal, save for one known exception. I refer, of course, to the case of H. The agent of transmission is not yet known_.