"You're still not convinced that we have to go," he said at last. The remark was unnecessary, but somebody had to say something. No reply was necessary either.
The scientist shifted her eyes away and said, as if addressing the low table standing between her and the other two, "It's the way in which we're going about it. They've trusted you unquestioningly all this time. All the way from Iscaris . . . all those years. You. . ."
"One second." Garuth moved across to a small control panel set into the wall near the door. "I don't think this conversation should go on record." He flipped a switch to cut off the room from all channels to ZORAC, and hence to the ship's archival records.
"You know that there's no Ganymean civilization waiting at The Giants' Star or anywhere else," Shilohin resumed. Her voice was about as near an accusation as a Ganymean could get. "We've been through the Lunarian records time and again. It adds up to nothing. You are taking your people away to die somewhere out there between the stars. There will be no coming back. But you allow them to believe in fantasies so that they will follow where you lead them. Surely those are the ways of Earthmen, not Ganymeans."
"They offered us their world as home," Jassilane murmured, shaking his head. "For twenty years your people have dreamed of nothing but coming home. And now that they have found one, you would take them back out into the void again. Minerva is gone; nothing we can do will change that. But by a quirk of fate we have found a new home--here. It will never happen a second time."
Suddenly Garuth was very weary. He sank down into the reclining chair by the door and regarded the three solemn faces staring back at him. There was nothing that he could add to the things that had already been said. Yes, it was true; the Earthmen had greeted his people as if they were long-lost brothers. They had offered all they had. But in the six months that had gone by, Garuth had looked deep below the surface. He had looked; he had listened; he had watched; he had seen.
"Today the Earthmen welcome us with open arms," he said. "But in many ways, they are still children. They show us their world as a child would open its toy cupboard to a new play-friend. But a play-friend who visits once in a while is one thing; one who moves in to stay, with equal rights to ownership to the toy cupboard, is another."
Garuth could see that his listeners wanted to be convinced, to feel the reassurance of thinking the way he thought, but could not--no more than they had been able to a dozen times before. Nevertheless he had no choice but to go through it yet again.
"The human race is still struggling to learn to live with itself. Today we are just a handful of aliens--a novelty; but one day we would grow to a sizable population. Earth does not yet possess the stability and the maturity to adapt to coexistence on that scale; they are just managing to coexist with one another. Look at their history. One day, I'm sure, they will be capable, but the time is not ripe yet.
"You forget their pride and their innate instincts to compete in all things. They could never accept passively a situation in which their instincts would compel them, one day, to see themselves as inferiors and us as dominant rivals. When that time came, we would be forced to go anyway, since we would never impose ourselves or our ways on unwilling or resentful hosts, but that would happen only after a lot of problems and eventual unpleasantness. It is better this way."
Shilohin heard his words, but still everything inside her recoiled from the verdict that they spelled out.
"So, for this you would deceive your own people," she whispered. "Just to insure the stable evolution of this alien planet, you would sacrifice your own kind--the last few pathetic remnants of our civilization. What kind of judgment is this?"
"It is not my judgment, but the judgment of time and fate," Garuth replied. "The Solar System was once the undisputed domain of our race, but that time ended long ago. We are the intruders now--an anachronism; a scrap of flotsam thrown up out of the ocean of time. Now the Solar System has become rightly the inheritance of Man. We do not belong here any longer. That is not a judgment for us to make, but one that has already been made for us by circumstances. It is merely ours to accept."
"But your people . . ." Shilohin protested. "Shouldn't they know? Haven't they the right . . . ?" She threw her arms in the air in a gesture of helplessness. Garuth remained silent for a moment, then shook his head slowly.
"I will not reveal to them that the new home at The Giants' Star is a myth," he declared firmly. "That is a burden that need be carried only by us, who command and lead. They do not have to know. . . yet. It was their hope and their belief in a purpose that nurtured them from Iscaris to Sol. So it can be again for a while. If we are taking them away to their doom to perish unsung and unmourned somewhere in the cold, uncharted depths of space, they deserve at least that before the final truth has to become known. That is precious little to ask."
A grim silence reigned for a long time. A faraway look came over Shilohin as she turned over again in her mind the things that Garuth had said. And then the look changed gradually into a frown. Her eyes cleared and swung slowly upward to meet Garuth's.
"Garuth," she said. Her voice was curiously calm and composed. All traces of the emotions she had felt previously were gone. "I've never said this to you ever before, but. . . I don't believe you." Jassilane and Monchar looked up abruptly. Garuth seemed strangely unsurprised, almost as if he had been expecting her to say that. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated the tapestry on the wall. Then he swung his eyes slowly back toward her.
"What don't you believe, Shilohin?"
"Your reasons . . . everything you've been saying for the last few weeks. It's just not . . . you. It's a rationalization of something else. . . something deeper." Garuth said nothing, but continued to regard her steadfastly. "Earth is maturing rapidly," she continued. "We've mixed with them and been accepted by them in ways that far exceeded our wildest hopes. There's no evidence to support the predictions you made. There's no evidence that we could never coexist, even if our numbers did grow. You would never sacrifice your people just on the off-chance that things might not work out. You'd try it first. . . for a while at least. There has to be another reason. I won't be able to support your decision until I know what that reason is. You talked about the burden of we who command and lead. If we carry that burden, then surely we've a right to know why."
Garuth continued staring at her thoughtfully for a long time after she had finished speaking. Then he transferred his gaze, still with the same thoughtful expression, to Jassilane and Monchar. The look in their eyes echoed Shilobin's words. Then, abruptly, he seemed to make up his mind.
Without speaking, he rose from the chair, walked over to the control panel, and operated the switch to restore normal communications facilities to the room.
"ZORAC," he called.
"Yes, Commander?"
"You recall the discussion that we had about a month ago concerning the data that the human scientists have collected on the genetics of the Oligocene species discovered in the ship at Pithead?"