"We started ten days ago when your monitor gave out with the
annihilation alarm." He eyed Saxon keenly. "Just how bad is it?"
Saxon told him. Gant's face turned a dirty white.
"Aliens," he said thickly. "They probably murdered the original colony.
You've come through nicely, lad. It may mean promotion." He turned into
the ship. "Come on."
"Wait." Saxon's voice was a dry whisper. "You're not going to--"
"Demolition," Gant said. "I've got a task force up there that can crack
a planet. Let's go, Commander."
_I will not shrink from any cup of duty--_
"Please," Saxon said huskily. "I don't believe they're inimical to Man.
They're altruists."
"So?"
"They're benevolent," Saxon pleaded. "Both races can live together!"
"Don't be a fool," Gant grunted, and turned into the airlock.
Saxon leapt.
One palm came down hard at the base of the Director's skull.
And Gant twisted. He palmed the younger man with two deft blows, throat
and plexus. Saxon slumped, retching. Gant stood above him, his smile
strained.
"Amateur," he panted. "I was instructing hand tactics before you
were born." He took out his blaster. "They've infected you," he said
compassionately. "I'm sorry, lad. You'll get a posthumous decoration."
The blaster came up, steadied. Then Gant stood very still, a
white-haired statue.
Mentor came around the ship and helped Saxon to his feet.
"Destroying guests is forbidden," the robot clicked. "The concept is
irrational."
* * * * *
Later, in the shadows of the farmhouse that was not a farmhouse, Saxon
watched the scout disappear into the sky. He turned towards Veena.
"You're letting him go?"
"Mentor--treated him," she said dreamily. "He'll report that you
destroyed the colony, died in the process, and this planet is unfit
for further colonization. Incidentally, the council voted in the
affirmative. Otherwise you'd be with Gant."
Aliens, playing a game with their ape-brother. Recognizing him at first
glance, speaking his language, making him feel wanted, at home.
_Why?_
He was afraid to ask the question.
"We're on a vacation," Veena said. "We've only been here for one
generation. We were due to return almost thirty years ago, but we found
your colony."
"Did you--"
"Isolation," she murmured. "The ghetto. They're sick," she said.
"Infected with the culture plague. We couldn't leave them and we
couldn't help them." Her gaze was very steady. "Until you came."
It came to him. Man, clutching at the knees of Gods, envying, striving
futilely, finally hating.
Only Man can help Man.
"It's not fair," Saxon breathed. He took Veena by the shoulders,
made her look at him. "I'm happy here. You and Lang--Merl--I'm just
beginning to learn! I'd hoped that in a few years--"
"We are not human," Veena said gently. "And our life span is four
hundred of your years."
For the first time, he noticed the faint malformation of her ears, the
subtle differences in facial bone structure. He glanced past her, saw
Lang and Merl waiting in the doorway.
"It will mean months of study," she said. "You have so much to unlearn,
to understand. They may reject you, sacrifice you. That will not
matter. What does matter is your impact on their culture, what it will
mean a thousand generations hence."
_Diseased apes, with a touch of Godhood, suffering from an infection
that might be forever incurable. Why should he be the sacrifice? Who
was he, to help them?_
Looking at Veena, he knew the answer.