"Fool," she spat, whirling away. "And I promised the Brenden."
It registered then. He rose, went to her. She didnot respond when he put his hands on her armsfrom behind. "The Brenden is your brother?"
"Of course," she said.
"And together you're going to wipe out the fleetsof the UP, the Zedeian worlds included?"
She jerked away and faced him, eyes blazing. "Itwas the Zedeians who almost killed us when wewere leaving Taratwo," she said.
"Why?"
"Because, dammit, we'd been infiltrated. There were traitors in the space service, too, enough toseize two cruisers and try to kill us, to seize thediamond before I could bring it here."
Pat had to take time to think. He turned, pickedup his drink. "Corinne, I take it that the time isnear. That fleet, the one that sent down the tug topick up theSkimmer, that's the Taratwo battlefleet, isn't it? And you're almost ready."
"Yes." Her mood changed, and she came to him,looked up into his eyes. "Be with me, Pat. TheBrenden has said we can be married." She put herarms around him and spoke with great intensity."You can help make it a better galaxy, darling.You can be my prince, my king if my brother dies before you. We can wipe out all the wrongs, giveevery man his share, his due."
It was Pat's turn to lie. Perhaps she and herbrother were both mad. It was difficult to believe that the people of the original colony ship haddeveloped a weapon which would allow Taratwo'stiny fleet to best the combined fleets of the UP. Before he made any decision, he had to see thatweapon, had to know its true potential.
"Honey," he said, drawing her close, "I'm halfway convinced. I don't think things are bad enoughin the UP to warrant such actions as you and yourbrother are contemplating, but I know this. I want to be with you, regardless."
She kissed him, quickly. "Wonderful. I'm so happy, Pat. So happy."
Suddenly, she was all business again. "My brotherwill be here within the week. In the meantime, Ithink you'll want to look over our plans, give meyour opinion on the readiness of the fleet. You canbe so much help, Pat, and we'll be together."
He was almost convinced, and then he remembered his brief time on Taratwo. People there had been afraid to speak of the dictator, much less tospeak ill of him. The security police had had nocompunction in gunning down an old miner. Ifthat was a sample of the enlightened freedom whichCorinne and her brother planned to bring to the galaxy, he wanted no part of it.
"One more question, honey," he said. "Why wereyou working on Zede II?"
She smiled. "You thought, at first, that I was anagent of Zede II, didn't you? You thought that Ihad been sent to Taratwo to get something from Brenden. Well, so didthey, so did the Zedeians.They thought I was their agent, and what theywanted was the Brenden's jewels. Pat, Taratwo is the richest diamond planet in the galaxy. We haveenough diamonds stored to decorate every fancylady on every world. And the Zedeians had heardrumors. They wanted diamonds. What they didn'tknow was that I was a Brenden, that I was onZede to influence them into trade, into tradingships and weapons for emeralds and rubies."
"Smart," Pat said, with a little feeling of unease.
"How'd you keep it quiet that there were diamonds on Taratwo?"
"The government monopoly controlled all of thegood diamond sources. We developed a surefireway of locating such areas. Now and then an independent would find a few diamonds, but they wereusually purchased by the monopoly. Those few that slipped past went unnoticed."
"And Murphy's Stone?"
"I told you the truth about that. The old mancame to me, thinking that my greed would influence me into
helping him get the diamond off theplanet."
"And you knew he was going to be killed. Thesecurity police didn't have detection instrumentsto see Murphy in the ashfall—you told them hewas going to be there."
"Pat, he had to die. The secret of such a diamond could not be allowed to get back to Zede.They had the power. We owe them billions. TheUP would not have raised a hand had the Zedeianssent a fleet to collect the debt, to take over."
Well, old Murphy, Pat was thinking, so yourdeath wasn't just an unlucky accident after all.Rest in peace.
Can a man ever know a woman? This one. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. God help him, he was still in love with her, and she'dcalled for the death of an old boonie rat as if byroutine, all in the name of the cause. Goddam all people with a cause, he was thinking. For twentycenturies the populated galaxy had_been advancing, always pushing outward, just as if, as somethought, man's purpose was to dominate all of it, the entire universe, first the Milky Way and then the other numberless galaxies which stretched outward into the unknown. For a thousand years thatmass madness of humanity, war, had been undercontrol, and now this slight, beautiful, shapely,desirable, deadly girl was going to bring back the madness.
She saw his expression change, and mistook hisintent.
"Youare with me," she whispered, smilinghappily.
"All the way," he said.
Before she, herself, broke off the heated kisseswhich almost led to other things, he had begun towonder if, after all, she wouldn't be worth it. Withher in his arms he had all he wanted out of theuniverse, but if she came with power, riches, andall the goodies, wouldn't that be permissible?
NINE
Corinne was busy. Doing what, Pat didn't ask. Hehad the freedom of the temple. His first stop was a shielded, armored room in which rested one museum case with a set of ancient, leather-coveredbooks, real books, enclosed in climate-controlledglass and resting on velvet. A priest went through a complicated ritual before opening the case. Pathad no hope of being able to read all the books,all the thick volumes. He picked up the first.
The language was German, ponderous, careful,exacting.
"From the beginning," Klaus von Forster hadwritten, far away and back into the dimness oftime, "man, at the mercy of the elements and the mysteries of the world, sought reassurance, something to prove that his life was no mere accident,that his existence had meaning beyond meetingthe day to day needs of his body. It was, perhaps,the elements themselves which first awoke in manthe need to recognize a power greater than himself."
Pat put the book down. Such thinking was stillcurrent at the coffee table of undergraduates atXanthos U. "In the beginning," the young onessaid, "man created God." And one not quite sodaring might say, "If there were no God, manwould have had to invent him."
Pat picked passages at random from the various volumes. Interesting, very, very interesting. Thescholars at the university would bury themselvesin these books for decades, for in the ponderouswords of von Forster, in the history of religion onOld Earth, were hints of information which was new and dazzling. If von Forster could be trusted,Earth had had a rich and long history before thedestruction, with fragmented and isolated segmentsof the population reaching for modern civilizationat different times, in different areas.
Von Forster would be a feast for the scholar, andthere was no doubt in Pat's mind that the information which the man had written to explain thesocial basis for the various religions and cults andgods and goddesses would give man his deepestlook into his forgotten past.
But that could, perhaps, come later.
He had Corinne's permission to go anywherewithin the temple complex. It was just a matter of exploration. The word had obviously been passedto the priests who presided over the functions ofthe temple, for he was never stopped, never questioned. When he discovered an elevator which onlywent down, he felt tendrils of excitement. He pushedthe button. The car came up, the door opened, andgoing into the car, he saw that there was but onefloor below ground level. The elevator opened intoa cavernous chamber, crowded with equipment,test benches, people.
He wandered around idly, being nodded to by the "priests" working at various tasks. To him, a lot of the work going on looked like humbug, forsome of the priests were working with native produce and vegetation, testing various chemical reactions. His opinion was confirmed when one busypriest told him that for twenty years he'd beenworking with a particularly hardy native thornbush, feeding it variously treated extracts of potato pulp in order to influence it to produce edible fruit.