Monitor Clothilde Kwai Kwich interrupted. "Andy! This man is dying. I suggest we get him to a hospital."
The Reefer grinned painfully, working his lips for a second, then jetted a stream of black liquid at a rock. "Good idea, miss," he said. "Only it's too late for the hospital. I'm going to the church."
"Gosh, preacher!" breathed Rufe, wide-eyed behind Andy Quam in the shifting auroral lights. "Never thought he'd say that!"
"Never would," rumbled the Reefer, "if I had the choice. Knew it was coming. Your robot inspector told me weeks ago, 'Malignant fu-sorian virus,' he said, and acted like he was enjoying it—much as a robot can enjoy anything. And he said the Visitants could clear it up, but no doctor could. Expect he's right."
"So you're joining Almalik," said Andy Quam.
The Reefer shrugged bitterly, and winced from his slung arm. "I've tamed my last sleeth. My free life's ended." A spasm of pain whitened his face beneath the scars and the dirty beard. "Don't think I like it, Quamodian! But half my body's on fire."
"Good!" cried Andy Quam. "That's fine! Now, if you want a ride to Wisdom Creek, you can start paying the fare!"
The boy gasped, and even Clothilde Kwai Kwich darted a sudden incredulous look at Quamodian. The Reefer licked his lips, staring at Quamodian. "What're you talking about? I'm too sick for jokes!"
"That's good, because I'm not joking. I'm going to leave you here to rot—unless you make it worth my while to take you in."
"How?"
"Easiest thing in the world," Quamodian said tightly. "Let's just start by telling me the truth about what you and Cliff Hawk were doing."
Under the many-hued gleam of the auroras the Reefer's eyes glowed whitely, furiously. If he had had the transcience powers of the sleeth, Andreas Quamodian would have been stunned or dead in that moment; there was madness in his look, and a rage that could destroy planets.
But it passed. The Reefer looked away. His jaws worked; he gulped, spat a thin black stream of the juice of his root and said, "Why not? Makes no difference any more, does it? After all, the Visitants will soon be burrowing in my brain and exposing all my secrets for Almalik to know. Might as well tell you now as have you find out that way—but let me sit down in your flyer, Quamodian. I'm telling the truth about being sick."
Andy Quam opened the bubble for him, and painfully the huge man sank into the cushions. The autonomic circuits of the flyer compensated for his weight and he sat bobbing slightly, looking down on them.
"Truth is," he said, "Cliff Hawk was only working for me. Insolent pup! I knew he thought he was pretty high and mighty, chasing after pure knowledge and all that stuff. But all I wanted was a cure for this virus. Ever since I picked it up on the reefs, more'n twenty years ago, it's been sleeping there inside me. I didn't mean for it to kill me, Quamodian. But I didn't mean to take on the Visitants, either."
He soothed his splinted arm with rough, blunt fingers, staring up at the many-hued sky. "I did like some of the things the Visitants had to offer, of course. Physical immortality, just about. A cure for this fusorian poison. Power—the rogues were my way of getting those things, without letting those parasites into my body. Hawk was just my engineer."
"So you knew Cliff Hawk was creating a rogue?" Quamodian leaned forward to search the Reefer's lax and bloodless face.
"Two rogues, Quamodian. The first got away." He grinned with a spasm of pain. "Looks like the other one did too!"
"I see," whispered Andy Quam, staring up at the angry aurora. "The first one entered our sun. Now it's rogue too!"
The Reefer shrugged.
Clothilde Kwai Kwich cried, "Monitor Quamodian! This must be reported at once. Since our citizens are not in contact with Almalik, we must return immediately to Wisdom Creek and report via the transflex station there."
"It's been reported already," said Andy Quam, "Impossible! How could it be? We just found out. . ."
"By Rufe's parents. They knew about it, didn't they?" The boy nodded, looking pleased and excited. "And they've gone to Nuevo York to pass the word along."
The Reefer scratched his ribs cautiously, winced and groaned. "So that's about it, right? Now how about taking me in to Wisdom Creek?"
"Not just yet," said Andy Quam, deadly quiet. "One more question. What about Molly Zaldivar?"
"That witless little thing! She ruined Cliff Hawk. In love with her, he was; she tried to stop him, and messed everything up."
He gasped and leaned forward, clutching his chest. "But I don't know where she is now, Quamodian," he moaned. "Please! Isn't that enough? Won't you take me in before this thing kills me?"
On the way to Wisdom Creek Andy Quam used the flyer's circuits to contact the control dome for priorities. "Thirty-minute delay on all messages, Monitor Quamodian," said the dome. "I will inform you when your circuits can be cleared."
Grim-lipped, Andy Quam ordered the flyer to the Starchurch. Now that he knew what was wrong with the sun his responsibility was at an end. Almalik would cope with the problem—somehow—or Almalik would fail; Quamodian didn't care. At that moment the only thing on his mind was Molly Zaldivar, stolen into space by the rogue and doomed to early death by the lethal rays of the old power source in the cavern. As for the Reefer, Quamodian didn't care in the slightest whether he lived or died.
Yet there was a sort of grandeur in what happened at the Starchurch. They were greeted by the new robot inspector, his egg-shaped black body bobbing with excitement at the presence of so many illustrious visitors. Even though this was not a Starday, a circle of the saved were kneeling on that wide floor beneath the imaged suns of Almalik, and Quamodian and Monitor Clothilde Kwai Kwich led the procession that brought the limping, sullen figure of the Reefer to the Visitants. Behind him the carnivorous citizen, the green spiral citizen and the cloud brought up the rear.
The kneeling worshippers chanted their praises of Almalik. Then Juan Valdivar stood up to ask the Reefer the statutory question—if he understood the nature of symbiotic life; if he had chosen of his own free will to accept the fusorian symbiotes in his body, blood, brain and bone; if he understood that this choice was made forever.
To each question, the Reefer croaked, "I do."
He knelt, and the inhabited saved ones knelt with him, their golden brands glowing in the gloom. They chanted again, their voices rolling solemnly against the mighty dome that held the thirteen suns of Almalik.
The Reefer gasped a sudden protesting cry.
He rose half to his feet, turned with a sudden look of wild alarm, then pitched forward on his damaged arm.
Quamodian heard a sharp, hissing crackle. Fine golden sparks were dancing up from the glowing marks on the bodies and faces of the saved ones, floating delicately toward the prone body of the Reefer. They flew together, gathering into a tiny cloud of golden fire that hovered over him.
The yellow fireball sank hissing into his skin.
An arm of it darted around his body, touched his cheek, retreated to rejoin the rest. The air was suddenly heavy with the sweet reek of the Visitants.
The Reefer's moan subsided.
Then the chanting ended. He stirred, opened his eyes, stood up easily and came to shake Andreas Quamodian's hand.
"Thanks, friend," his great voice boomed. A serene and gentle smile had fallen over his scarred ferocious face. The star of the Visitants now glowed faintly above his ragged beard. "All my pain is gone."
Juan Valdivar came to take his hand. "You are saved now. You'll feel no pain again," he said solemnly.
The control dome had been in touch with Almalik. But there were difficulties. Quamodian blazed, "What difficulties? I must communicate with Almalik at once—go there as soon as possible!"