NINE

Mara's frown deepened; she looked around them in the dimness, her eyes

taking in the complexity and extent of the circuitry. It faded into the

darkness behind them; lines ran into the walls and floor.

"They built their computers in the grand manner, didn't they?" she said

softly.

"I've seen fragments of them before," Rynason said. "This is a big

one--no telling how much area the total complex takes up. One thing's

certain, though: it's no ordinary computer of theirs. Not for plain

math-work, nor even for specialized computations, like the one on Rigel

II--that was apparently used for astrogation, but it wasn't half the

size of this. And navigation between stars, even with the kind of drive

they must have had, is no simple problem."

"The Hirlaji think it's a god," she said.

"That raised another problem," Rynason mused. "The Outsiders built it,

and must have left it here when they pulled back to wherever they were

going ... if they ever left the planet. But the Hirlaji use it, and they

communicate with it verbally. The Hirlaji are apparently responsible for

keeping it protected since then. But why should the Hirlaji be able to

use it?"

"Unless they're the Outsiders after all?" said Mara.

Rynason frowned. "No, I'm still not convinced of that. The clue seems to

be that they communicate verbally with it--they must have been using it

since before they developed telepathy."

"Couldn't there have been direct contact between the Hirlaji and the

Outsiders back when the Hirlaji were just evolving out of the beast

stage?"

"There must have been," said Rynason. "The Temple rituals are conducted

in an even older form of their language than most remembered--a

proto-language that was kept alive only by the priest caste, because the

machine had been set to respond to that language."

"But aren't primitive languages usually composed of simple, basic words

and concepts? How well could they communicate in such a language?"

"Not very well," Rynason said. "Which would explain why the machine

seemed to make mistakes--clumsiness of language. So the Outsiders,

maybe, left the machine when they pulled out, but they set it to respond

to the Hirlaji language because our horsefaced friends were beginning to

build a civilization of their own and the Outsiders thought they'd leave

them some guidance...." He stopped for a moment, remembering that first

linkage with Horng, and Tebron's memories. "The Hirlaji called them the

Old Ones," he said.

"And that order to Tebron ... about the other race that they would meet

someday. That was based on Outsiders observations."

"I wonder when the Outsiders were on Earth," Rynason said. "Sometime

after we'd started our own rise, certainly. Maybe in ancient

Mesopotamia, or India. Or later, during the Renaissance?"

"The time doesn't matter, does it?" Mara said. "They touched down on

Earth, took note of us, and left. Somehow they thought we were going to

develop more rapidly than we did."

"Probably before the Dark Ages," Rynason said. "Maybe they didn't see

that thousand-year setback coming...." He stopped, and stood up in the

low passageway among the ancient circuitry. "So here we are,

second-guessing the Outsiders. And outside, their proteges have

disintegrators probably left by the Outsiders, and they're just waiting

for us to try to get out."

"Our new-found knowledge isn't doing us much good, is it?" she said.

He shook his head slowly. "When I was still on the secondary senseteach

units I met Rene Malhomme for the first time. My father worked the

spacers, so I don't even remember what planet this was on. But I

remember the night I first saw Rene--he was speaking from the top of a

blue-lumber pile, shouting about the corporations that were moving in.

He was getting all worked up about something, and several people in the

crowd were shouting back at him; I stopped to watch. All of a sudden six

or seven men moved in from somewhere and dragged him down from where he

was standing. There was a fight--people were thrown all around. I hid

till it was over.

"When the crowd finally cleared, there was Rene. His clothes were torn,

but he wasn't hurt. Every one of the men who had attacked him had to be

carried away; I think one of them was dead. Rene stood there laughing;

then he saw me hidden in the darkness and he took me home. He told me

that when he'd been younger he'd worked his way all the way in to Earth,

and studied some of the cultures there. He'd learned karate, which was

an ancient Japanese way of fighting."

Rynason took a deep breath. "He said everything a person learns will be

useful someday. And I believed him."

"A nice parable," Mara said. "We could use him against the Hirlaji,

though."

Rynason was silent, thinking. If they could only catch the aliens off

guard ... but of course they couldn't, now. He let his eyes wander

aimlessly along the circuitry surrounding them. Tell me, old Kor, what

do we do now?

After a moment his eyes narrowed; he reached up and traced a connection

with his fingers, back to the front, toward the altar. It led directly

to ... the speaker!

The voice of Kor.

And if he could interrupt that connection, put his own voice through the

speaker, out through the altar....

"Mara, we're going out. I've found my own brand of karate for our

friends out there."

He helped her to her feet. She moved somewhat painfully, her broken left

arm hanging stiffly at her side, but she made no protest.

"We've got to be fast," he said. "I don't know how well this will

work--it depends on how much they trust their clay-footed god today."

Quickly, he outlined his plan. Mara listened silently and nodded.

Then he set to work. It was largely guesswork, following those intricate

alien connections, but Rynason had seen this part of such machines

before. He found the penultimate point at which the impulses from the

brain were translated into sound and broadcast through the speaker. He

disconnected this, his torn fingers working awkwardly on the delicate

linkages.

"Ready?"

Mara was just inside the narrow passage behind the altar. She nodded

quickly.

Rynason twisted himself so that he could speak directly into the input

of the speaker. He raised his voice to approximate the thin, high sounds

of the Hirlaji language.

_Remain motionless. Remain motionless. Remain motionless._

The command burst out upon the altar room of the Temple, shattering the

silence. The Hirlaji turned in surprise to the altar--and stood still.

_Remain motionless. Remain motionless._

It was the phrase he had heard the machine use so often to Tebron, king

priest leader of all Hirlaj. It had meant something else then, but the

proto-language of the Hirlaji had no precise meanings; given by itself,

it seemed to mean precisely what it said.

"All right, let's go out!" Rynason said, and the two of them broke from

behind the altar. The Hirlaji stood completely still; several of those

that Rynason had dropped with his stunner had recovered consciousness,

but they made no move either. Rynason and the girl ran right through the

quiet aliens; only a few of them turned shadowed eyes to look at them as

they passed. They made the outside colonnade in safety, and paused

there.

"They may see through this in a minute," Rynason said. "Don't wait for

me--get out of the city!"

"You're not coming?"

"I won't be too far behind. Get going!"

She hesitated only a moment, then hurried down the broad levels of the

Temple steps. Rynason watched her to the bottom, then turned and

re-entered the altar room.

Rynason went quickly among them, taking their weapons. Most of them made

no effort to stop him, but a few tightened their grips on the

disintegrators and he had to pry those thick fingers from the weapons,

cursing to himself. How long would they wait?

There were fourteen of the disintegrators. They were large and heavy; he

couldn't hold them all at once. He dumped five of them outside the altar

room and returned to disarm the rest of the aliens. Sweat formed beads

on his forehead, but he moved without hesitation.

Another of the Hirlaji tightened his grip when Rynason began to take the

weapon from him. He looked up, and saw the quiet eyes of Horng resting

on him. The leathery grey wrinkles which surrounded those eyes quivered

slightly, but otherwise he made no movement. Rynason dropped his gaze

from that contact and wrested the weapon away.

As he started to move on to the next, Horng silently dipped his massive

head to one side. Rynason felt a chill go down his back.

In a few more minutes he had disarmed them all. He set the last three

disintegrators on the stone floor of the colonnade--and a movement in

the distance caught his eye. It was on the south wall of the city; two

men stood for a moment silhouetted against the Flat, then disappeared

into the shadows. In a moment, another man appeared, and he too dropped

inside the wall.

So Manning had already sent the men in. The mob was unleashed.

Rynason hesitated for a moment, then turned and went quickly back into

the altar room. Mara's radio was there; he lifted it by its strap and

took it with him out to the colonnade.

He could see the Earthmen moving through the streets now, darting from

wall to wall in the gathering darkness of evening. In a short time it

would be full night--and Rynason knew that these men would like nothing

better than to attack in the dark.

He warmed the radio and opened the transmitter.

"Manning, call off your dogs. I've disarmed the Hirlaji."

The radio spat static at him, and for several seconds he thought his

signal hadn't even been picked up. But at last there was a reply:

"Then get out of the Temple. It's too late to stop this."

"Manning!"

"I said get clear. You've done all you can there."

"Damn it, there's no need for any fighting!"

Manning's voice sounded cold even in the faint reception of the

hand-radio. "That's for me to decide. I'm running this show, remember."

"You're running a massacre!" Rynason shouted.

"Call it what you like. Mara says they weren't so docile when you broke

in."

Rynason's mind raced; he had to stall for time. If he could get Manning

to stop those men until they cooled down....

"Manning, there's no need for this! Didn't she tell you that the altar

is just a computer? These people haven't had anything to do with the

Outsiders since before they can remember!"

The radio carried the faint sound of Manning's chuckle. "So now they're

people to you, Lee? Or are you one of them now?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Lee, my boy, you're sounding like an old horsefaced nursemaid. You

linked minds with them, and you say you were practically a Hirlaji

yourself when you went into that linkage. Well, I'm not so sure you ever

came out of it. You're _still_ one of them!"

"Is that the only reason you can think of that I might have for wanting

to prevent a massacre?" Rynason said icily.

"If they tried to revolt once, they'll try it again," Manning said.

"We'll crush them _now_."

"You think that will impress the Council? Slaughtering the only

intelligent race we've found?"

"I'm not playing to the Council!" Manning snapped. "I've got these men

following me, and I'll listen to what _they_ want!"

Rynason stared at the microphone for a moment. "Are you sure you aren't

afraid of your own mob?" he said.

"We're coming in, Lee. Get out of there or we'll cut you down too."

"Manning!"

"I'm switching off."

"_Not quite yet._ There's one more thing, and you'd better hear this

one!"

"Make it fast," Manning said. His voice sounded uninterested.

"If any of your boys try to come in, I'll stop them myself. I've got the

disintegrators, and I'll use them."

There was silence from the radio, save for the static. It lasted for

long seconds. Then:

"It's your funeral." There was a faint click as Manning switched off.

* * * * *

Rynason stared angrily at the radioset for a moment, then left it lying

at the top of the steps and went back inside. The Hirlaji stood

motionlessly in dimness; it took awhile for Rynason's eyes to adjust to

it. He found the interpreter that Mara had left and quickly hooked it up

to Horng. The alien's eyes, moving heavily in their sockets, watched him

as he connected the wires.

When everything was ready Rynason lifted the interpreter's mike. "The

Earthmen are going to attack you," he said. "I want to help you fight

them off."

There was no reaction from the alien; only those quiet eyes resting on

him like the shadows of the entire past.

"Can you still believe that Kor is a god? That's only a machine--I spoke

through it myself, minutes ago! Don't you realize that?"

After a moment Horng's eyes slowly closed and opened in acknowledgement.

KOR WAS GOD KNOWLEDGE. THE OLD ONES DIED BEFORE TIME, AND PASSED INTO

KOR. NOW KOR IS DEAD.

"And all of you will be dead too!" Rynason said.

The huge alien sat unmoving. His eyes turned away from Rynason.

"You've got to fight them!" Rynason said.

But he could see that it was useless. Horng had made no reply, but

Rynason knew what was in his thoughts now.