The Earth Gods Are Coming (10 page)

Inglis, waving Toni to quietness, interrupted. Rattigan, it was plain, was ready to give his eye teeth to the first asker. Inglis felt that he'd wriggled off the hook only by a fluke, the fluke of this man Cyrus' demands; but he very much wanted and desired to unhook himself—himself. "The basic problem is solved," he said, and waited.

Rattigan stared at him blankly. In the whaler a quietness fell on those gathered there, save for Toni, who again tried to say something, and the noises of voices and laughter outside on the Pogosan sailing ships. Inglis savored the moment. It was all that was left of his self esteem—that and Gerda— and he meant to use it all the way.

"My instructions were to locate the home system of the Evil Ones."

"Well?"

"I still remember the misty-eyed ancients. I still recall the words of fire and glory and the picture of the Four Caves is still very plain in my mind. That has meant that I am very well aware of what I was doing." He sought for the right words. "The Four Caves form a pattern, a pattern outlined in fire. That fire is composed of stars. In effect, the knowledge of the Four Caves is displayed through a star map. The Four Caves are the four home suns of the Evil Ones. They must have used this type of picture system to impress a formula for their descendants so that there would be no mistake."

"That follows," Varese said, unexpectedly, over Inglis' ear.

"I can study that picture in my brain, as can anyone who has received knowledge of the four caves, and from that implanted information locate the Evil Ones' home system."

"The devil you can!" Rattigan breathed softly. "So we've got them. We can go ahead, move onto the attack."

"Yes."

"Will you listen to me?" shouted Toni.

"What is it?" Inglis turned. A short, swarthy man he had never seen before in his life stood at his elbow. Rattigan said, "Who's that?"

The man said, "My name is Abd al-Malik ibn-Zobeir, capsule despatch chief of CDB ship
Isabella,
sir."

"You got down alive? That's good! You can return at once with the crew of
Swallow
aboard
Sagittarius."

Abdul said tiredly, "You'll have to send down another Prophet in a fresh capsule. The one I rode down to the surface cracked up rather badly on landing."

"What!"

"But the Voice!" Inglis said. "The waves of mental power? We were under the influence of the Evil Ones and the Solarian Prophet of Earth reconverted us."

"No," Abd al-Malik said. "I did."

"You?"

"Yes. The android was smashed up. That was my fault, my sacrifice, in falling with it. But the Dissemination Project had to go on. And the mental radiation equipment was still intact. So I just set about doing the job myself,"

"Well, I'll be—" Admiral Gus Rattigan said.

Inglis said, "I don't know how you feel about it, but, speaking personally, I feel I owe Abdul a vote of thanks. A big one. That must have been a pretty tough job, alone."

The despatch chief smiled wearily. "Maybe. The Prophet was just a machine. It was put out of action. As a man, a Solarian, I couldn't let Earth down, could I?" The Pogosan were singing now on their sailing ships, a happy, lilting tune taught them from the tapes and Abd al-Malik had been running. The tune would have been recognized at once on Earth. "Whenever Earthmen land on this planet—even three thousand years in the future—they will come knowing that they are friends, visiting friends made long ago. That was the object of the CDB, wasn't it?"

"The Evil Ones had the same idea." someone said.

"Right." Abdul glanced at his watch. "If you cannot afford to send a full-scale exploration party, or even a small scout, to all the planets in the Galaxy because there are so many of them, you have to think of something else. Because there is every chance that other, unfriendly aliens, are busy at the same thing. So you send a Prophet to drop them down on the planets you find to pave the way, to channel the evolving people's minds into ways of thinking understandable to Terrans, so that when you do have time to explore the planet you discover people who already think as you do, who are not truly alien at all. The CDB hoped to make sure that the people of the Galaxy—or that part of it we can reach at the moment—are attuned to your way of thinking, your way of life, your religion, if you like. Then, when you, or we, land, we are met by friends."

Abd al-Malik ibn-Zobeir saluted gravely. "I'd better get back and run a few more song tapes. These Pogosan are a fine race of people, worthy allies to have. Until you can send a new Prophet to take over, I'll carry on. After all, a man ought to be able to do this job far better than a machine, even if there are only a few of us."

"Better than a machine." Inglis said. "On this planet that is true, the Pogosan don't martyr prophets. But, on other planets, we'd best continue using androids."

"The CDB will continue disseminating prophets," Gus Rattigan said. "Roy, you and your girl friend had better hurry home. I've work for you both."

And Abd al-Malik ibn-Zobeir went out onto the deck into the sunshine to get on with his job. He felt very happy. He was no longer frightened; not frightened at all.

The End