“Degenerate form of Egyptian religion. According to legend, Seth, the evil god, was jealous of Osiris. He put him to death, tearing his body into fourteen pieces. The Copts are ... literal-minded.” Brady sucked in his breath. “I wish I knew more of their mythos. The ceremony glorifies Isis of the Moon. A Copt has always served before. But now ...” He pulled at the clipped gray moustache. “Ruggiero has been taken to Alu to be sacrificed. This means trouble—plenty of it.” But there was no fear in the sunken eyes; only excited anticipation. “Alu! The Land of Light!” And suddenly Tony understood. For years Brady had wondered about the half-mythical cavern world below, a place forbidden to him by rigid rules. Now, in the absence of the commander, it was Brady’s duty to rescue the kidnapped legionnaire. His duty—and his chance. Tony said, “Let us go with you, captain. Eh?” Jimmy and Phil exchanged surprised glances. Then Phil nodded. “Yeah! How about it?” Brady hesitated. “You’re untrained. You don’t know the ropes—” “We know how to handle guns.” “Carbon-pistols?” “We can learn easily enough.” “Yes ... they’re simple. But—all right,” the captain said with sudden decision. “You’re new, and that means you’re not scared stiff of Alu. The three of you and Jacklyn. Right!” He bawled for the skull-faced man. “Jacklyn! Get equipment! I’m taking these three recruits. _Allons!_” Tony grinned at his brothers. Their introduction to the Legion was to be exciting, after all—if not fatal! CHAPTER IV Sub-Sahara Jacklyn said, “Fifty years nearly I’ve been here. It never changes. First time I’ve ever seen the Copts get out of hand. Sure, they’d try to get out once in a while to butcher the Bedouins, but they never had anything against us. Funny.” The group was marching swiftly through a dim tunnel, Captain Brady in the lead, the others trailing. They had been moving for an hour, in a labyrinth of passages through which the captain unerringly found his way. Now he looked back and remarked: “That’s right. I know this maze pretty well, but Jacklyn knows it blindfolded. He’s practically a Copt himself. Hasn’t been above ground for fifty years.” “You must like it here,” Jimmy remarked. Jacklyn said, very softly, “It’s hell. You been in New York lately? Yeah? How does the old burg look now?” “It’s changed in fifty years,” Phil said. “But you know that already.” “Times Square, though—that’s there, eh? I remember I used to feel empty whenever I got out of the old town. God, I’d like to see it again—but not on a televisor. In fact,” he went on slowly, “I’d like to smell fresh air again. Not this artificial ventilation. See starlight and green growing things.” “And the Sun,” Jimmy nodded understandingly. He glanced at Jacklyn—and then caught his breath at sight of the expression on the legionnaire’s pallid face. Horror—and hate!