Time to show the forces of destruction that they were a power to be reckoned with. Time for a demonstration on a scale sufficient to bring double, triple the usual number of doubters flocking to their banner. It was time at last for a major effort, for a spectacular display that would bring them the kind of universal recognition they had heretofore shunned but now demanded. It meant making a statement that could not be ignored, showing how far they were willing to go to support their beliefs. Making that transition meant announcing themselves to the Commonwealth at large. It was time to metamorphose from a cause into a movement. They could collapse in upon themselves, stagnate, or take the great leap forward. They were no longer preaching to the already converted. Higher visibility meant more scrutiny by the authorities, more difficulty in soliciting adherents. It was now officially classified as a Problem, albeit still a minor one. The organization had grown beyond being a nuisance. With each new success, each achievement, their confidence blossomed and new recruits were gleaned. A chemical plant sabotaged, construction of a shuttleport abruptly delayed, a few crucial votes influenced by money, persuasion, or occasional blackmail: all in the name of the Cause. For years they had been biding time, gathering strength, testing the limits of their organization with subtle probes here, tiny strikes elsewhere. They had moved beyond reason into the realm of religion, a place where nonbelievers were heretics to be stopped by whatever means necessary. They were not alone in these beliefs, but they were alone in their methods. Relationships that the civilization of the Commonwealth was dedicated to destroying. They had created unnatural relationships in order to better maintain the natural ones between species.

Ecology was their creed, worshiped without question or hesitation. The others had adopted names such as Flora and Lizard and Ormega-identification borrowed from the natural world that they were dedicated to preserving. None of them knew each otherвЂ™s real names. His eyes seemed to bulge from his face, and his mouth contorted in a humorless grimace. When he spoke of the Cause, he no longer looked so genial. It was an accurate description of his mind, not of his physique. The man who was speaking was known to his compatriots as Spider. They were the leaders of a growing band, having been chosen by their associates to make the hard decisions, to determine targets and courses of action. The six complemented one another even as they shared the same passion. The man seated beside her was naturally cunning. Another brought strength and physical skills. The man who was speaking contributed money. Each brought something different to the cause. They sat before one another fresh and gleaming, like the holy crusaders they knew they were. At such times they sloughed off their daily personas and lives as easily as a lizard sheds old skin. When discussing it they were transformed. They were true believers, and they knew without a shadow of a doubt that their cause was just. What had brought them together in this small room at this particular time was a burning fanaticism, a bond stronger than epoxene or duralloy cable-a cause each was willing to die for. They came from different backgrounds and different worlds. They differed in coloring, though there was nothing unusual about that. With that single exception, none was especially tall or muscular. With his mouth shut he looked quite ordinary. Unlike his diatribe, his attire was simple and neat. He was a roly-poly sort of fellow topped by a short brush of inspired hair that crawled down to his shirt collar. In another place and time the intensity of his speech and gestures might have seemed unnatural, but they were perfectly appropriate for his present surroundings.

The man at the end of the table wore his attitude like a mask.

And most especially for Betty Ballantine, who first saw potential in them and me, and who helped bring the three of us to life. THE BALLANTINE PUBLISHING GROUP * NEW YORKДЇor all the readers whoвЂ™ve stuck with Flinx and Pip since 1972, and wanted them back.

Alan dean foster flinx