There Adam Ulnar, Commander of the Legion of Space, master of all this splendor and the immense wealth and power it represented, was sitting at a simple table.
Though twice Eric Ulnar’s age and almost twice his weight, Adam Ulnar was as handsome as his nephew.
Square-shouldered, erect, he wore a plain Legion uniform, without insignia to show his rank.
The calm strength of his face—nose prominent; mouth firm; blue eyes deep-set, wide apart, steady—contrasted with the reckless girlish weakness of Eric’s narrow face.
His long hair, nearly white, lent him the same distinction that Eric had from his flowing yellow locks.
John Star, to his surprise, felt an immediate instinctive admiration for this man of his own blood, so generous to an unknown relative— but now, it seemed, a traitor to the Legion he commanded.
“The men, Commander,” Madlok reported, briefly, “who lost AKKA.”
Adam Ulnar looked at them, without surprise, a faint smile on his distinguished face.
“So you were the guard of Aladoree Anthar?” he said, his voice well-modulated, pleasant.
“Your names?”
John Star named his companions.
“And I am John Ulnar.”
Smiling again, the Commander stood up behind the table.
“John Ulnar?
A kinsman of mine, I believe?”
“So I understand.”
He stood still, coldly unsmiling; Adam Ulnar came around the table to greet him, warmly courteous.
“I’ll see you alone, John,” he said, and nodded to Madlok, who withdrew with the others.
Then he turned to John Star, urged cordially:
“Sit down, John.
I wish now that we had met sooner, and under less awkward circumstances.
You made a brilliant record at the Academy, John.
I’ve a career planned for you, equally brilliant.”
John Star, remaining on his feet, his face taut, said stiffly:
“I suppose I should thank you, Commander Ulnar, for my education and my commission in the Legion.
A few days ago I should have done so very gratefully.
Now it seems that I was intended merely for a dupe and a tool!”
“I wouldn’t say that, John,” Adam Ulnar protested softly.
“It’s true that events did not take place just as I had planned—Eric is talcing affairs too much into his own hands.
But I had you placed under his direct command.
I was planning———”
“Under Eric!” John Star burst out hotly.
“A traitor!
Much as I once admired him, that’s what he is.
Obeying his orders, I helped betray the Legion and the Green Hall.”
“Traitor is a harsh word to use, John, just because of a political difference.”
“Political difference!”
Shocked outrage shook John Star’s voice.
“Do you admit to me openly that you are false to your own trust as an officer of the Legion?
You, the Commander himself!”
Adam Ulnar smiled at him, warmly, kindly, and a little bit amused.
“Do you realize, John, that I am by far the most wealthy man in the System?
That I am easily the most powerful and influential?
Doesn’t it occur to you that loyalty to the Purple Hall might be more to your advantage than support of the democracy?“
“Are you trying, sir, to make a traitor out of me?”
“Please, John, don’t use that word.
The form of government I stand for has a historic sanction far older than your silly ideas of equality and democracy.
And, after all, John, you are an Ulnar.
If you will consider just your own personal advantage, I can give you wealth, position, and power, which your present impractical democratic attitude will never earn for you.”
“I will not consider it.”