They left Horng sitting dully at the edge of the Flat and retraced their
steps through the Hirlaji ruins, still drawing no notice from the
aliens. Rynason had been in some of the small planetfall towns where
settlements had been established only to be abandoned by the main flow
of interstellar traffic ... those backwater areas where contact with the
parent civilization was so slight that an entirely local culture had
developed, almost as different from that of the mainstream Terran
colonies as was this last vestige of the Hirlaji civilization. And in
some of those areas interest in Earth was so slight that the offworlders
were ignored, as the Earthmen were here ... but he had never felt the
total lack of attention that was here. It was not as though the Hirlaji
had seen the Earthmen and grown used to them; Rynason had the feeling
that to the Hirlaji the Earthmen were no more important than the winds
or the dust beneath their feet.
As they passed through the settled portion of the ruins Rynason had to
step around a Hirlaji who crossed his path. He walked silently past, his
eyes not even flickering toward the Earthlings. Crazy grey hidepiles,
Rynason thought, and he and Mara hurried out across the Flat toward the
nearby Earth town.
On the outskirts of the town, where the packed-dirt streets faded into
loose dust and garbage was already piled several feet high, they were
met by Rene Malhomme. He sat long-legged with his back leaning against a
weathered stone outcropping. He seemed old already, though he was not
yet fifty; his windblown hair was almost the color of the surrounding
grey dust and rock--perhaps because it was filled with that dust,
Rynason thought. He stopped and looked down at the worn, tired man whose
eyes belied that weariness.
"And have you communicated with God, Lee Rynason?" Malhomme asked with
his rumbling, sardonic voice.
Rynason met his gaze, wondering what he wanted. He lowered the
telepather pack from his shoulder and set it in the dust. Mara sat on a
low rock beside him.
"Will an alien god do?" Rynason said.
Malhomme's eyes rested on the telepather for a moment. "You spoke with
Kor?" he asked.
Rynason nodded slowly. "I made a linkage with one of the Hirlaji, and
tapped the race-memory. I suppose you could say I spoke with Kor."
"You have touched the alien godhead," Malhomme mused. "Then it's real?
Their god is real?"
"No," said Rynason. "Kor is a machine."
Malhomme's head jerked up. "A machine? _Deus ex machina_, to quote an
ancient curse. We make our own machines, and make gods of them." The
tired lines of his face relaxed. "Well, that's a bit better. The gods
remain a myth, and it's better that way."
Rynason stood over him on the windy Flat, still puzzled by his manner.
He glanced at Mara, but she too was watching Malhomme, waiting for him
to speak again.
Suddenly, Malhomme laughed, a dry laugh which almost rasped in his
throat. "Lee Rynason, I have called men to God for so long that I almost
began to believe it myself. And when the men started talking about the
god of these aliens...." He shook his head, the spent laughter still
drawing his mouth back into a grin. "Well, I'm glad it isn't true.
Religion wouldn't be worth a damn if it were true."
"How did the men find out about Kor?" Rynason asked.
Malhomme spread his hands. "Manning has been talking, as usual. He
ridicules the Hirlaji, and their god. And at the same time he says they
are a menace."
"Why? Is he still trying to work the townsmen up against them?"
"Of course. Manning wants all the power he can get. If it means
sacrificing the Hirlaji, he'll do it." Malhomme stood up, stretching
himself. "He says they may be the Outsiders, and he's stirring up all
the fear he can. He'll grab any excuse, no matter how impossible."
"It's not so impossible," Rynason said. "Kor is an Outsiders machine."