At first nothing happened. Then the hatch began to rotate. Instead of withdrawing or projecting, however, it seemed to roll aside, leaving a gaping pit.
“Karaka!” Laedo cried.
Histrina frowned. “What?”
“We hit the spot.” Laedo had been quoting from a numbers game. He put out landing legs so the ship could grip the wall of the sphere, then put down. He found he didn’t need to use sticky-extrusion: the sphere was magnetically permeable and the legs were able to clamp on it that way.
Opening a locker, he took out a suit and a weapon. “You stay here,” he told Histrina. “I’m going to take a look.”
“No! Don’t leave me on my own!”
He held up the suit. “There’s no air out there. You have to wear one of these to breathe. You’ll be scared.”
“No, I won’t.”
He sighed, took out a spare suit and threw it to her. “Get into it, then.”
Fastening up the slim suit for her, and connecting her to him by a line in case she lost her footing and went floating off into space, he led her through the passageway airlock. They stepped down onto the metal surface of the sphere.
Histrina was not reassured by the lifeline. She floundered, and then panicked on seeing herself surrounded by such a strange and alien environment. Laedo took her arm and guided her to the entrance, showing her how to place her feet so that she wouldn’t cast herself adrift.
He had to manhandle her over the lip of the circular pit that led to the inside of the sphere. Once standing on its inner wall, however, normal weight returned. As he had expected, there was a manipulated gravity field inside.
The tunnel was perhaps ten yards long, and it was lighted by a pale green glow. When they had reached the halfway mark Laedo felt a puffing on his body that told him the passage was filling with air, or at least some kind of gas. Glancing behind him, he saw that the lid had rolled back in place. He bit his lip. This he hadn’t expected. it looked as though they might be trapped.
He needn’t have worried. When they had almost reached the end of the tunnel a similar lid there rolled aside. Beyond it was a level, well-lighted area. And blocking the way, standing in a line to confront him and Histrina, were four men. The cast of their features was similar to that of the natives of Erspia, except that they were somewhat paler, and their hair was cropped short. They wore long white gowns, cinched at the waist, and on the chest of each of these simple garments was a golden sun blaze.
One of the men held out his hands, palms upward. Hesitantly, he spoke.
“Do you come… from the Great One?”
Inside his helmet, Laedo smiled. it was tempting to give the answer the man clearly expected, but he knew he would never be able to sustain the deception, and he shook his head.
A wave of reassurance swept over him. He knew he had nothing to fear from these people.
It was also a great relief to find that the keepers of the projector were, after all, human.
“I can well understand that the mental environment on Erspia was strange to you,” Kwenis said mildly, pouring a fragrant, hot liquid into little cups from a tall, elegant pot. “Bewildering, even. I am taking your story at face value, of course.”
Laedo sat in a tidily furnished room. Kwenis passed one of the cups across the low table between them.
The beverage, almost purple in colour, was less bitter than coffee but refreshing. It was some species of tea, Laedo concluded.
He had been in the projector station for nearly an hour. Kwenis had taken him on a tour of the place, showing him the massive thought projector, the living quarters, and an installation which Laedo was certain was a star drive. There seemed to be a staff of eight on the station, four of them women with whom Histrina at this moment was also taking tea.
Kwenis called himself Chief Guardian of Ormazd. The other staff members were also guardians of Ormazd, apparently.
It was clear to Laedo that Kwenis was also vastly relieved that he was not, after all, receiving a visit from the ‘Great One’, whoever that might be.
“But what’s it all for?” he asked. “Who’s behind it? The ‘Great One’, I suppose. Who’s he?”
Kwenis sipped his tea reflectively. “I will tell you the whole story. ‘Great One’ is a reverential term for a being whom otherwise we know as ‘Klystar’. Klystar is a naturally evolved creature, like ourselves, but one with superior intelligence, so we believe, or at any rate superior ability. Klystar leads a roaming existence. Some time ago he happened to visit this region of the galaxy, and during his stay here he became interested in certain facets of human psychology. In particular, he was intrigued by the human mind’s suggestibility to thoughts, no matter where those thoughts come from. To Klystar it was most curious, for instance, that one person can persuade another of something, irrespective of whether or not it is reasonable. Most beings, in Klystar’s experience, form their thoughts and conduct independently of any swaying influence, as he himself does. We are queer creatures indeed from Klystar’s point of view. At any rate, he set up an experiment to investigate this phenomenon. He fashioned Erspia, and put people upon it. Above the planetoid he poised the two great thought projectors, one beaming what in conventional morality are ‘good’ thoughts, the other ‘bad’ thoughts. And he named them after the good and bad gods of a dualist human religion from a time when this morality was the rule in human society.
“But Klystar decided to leave before the experiment reached its final stage. So he placed us in the projector housings to act as servitors, to maintain the projectors should they malfunction, to carry out the final stage of the experiment, and to record its results. If, after a certain time, he had not returned, we were free to leave, and for that purpose he also gave us a star drive, as he did the guardians of Ahriman.”
“And what is the final stage?”
“The final stage is to switch off the projectors, and then to monitor events below to see whether the attitudes and beliefs they have inculcated will persist.”
Laedo was fascinated. “So all those people down there are just experimental animals!” He shook his head, smiling sardonically. “And when are the projectors due to be switched off?”
Kwenis looked uncomfortable. “According to schedule, thirty years ago. But we have not done it.”
“Indeed? Why not?”
Placing down his cup, Kwenis fidgeted, and then sighed. “As a guardian of Ormazd, I am unable to lie.
We would have obeyed Klystar’s instructions and switched off our projector, no matter what it cost us.
But the Ahrimanic servitors were of a different mind and refused to do so. We are fearful of what the consequences would be down below if only the Ahrimanic mode of thought were to operate—though, as a matter of fact, switching one or other of the projectors on again for a short period was to have constituted an additional sub-programme. So we have left matters as they are. To be honest, it is in our interest to do so.”
“Oh? How is that?”
Kwenis raised his eyebrows. “Why, because we are immortal for as long as the experiment remains in force. How else could Klystar ensure that we can service his equipment for centuries? When the experiment is finished, the life-giving force is withdrawn also.”
After absorbing this, Laedo snorted. “Perhaps motivation is another aspect of human behaviour that Klystar didn’t understand,” he suggested acidly.
Kwenis shrugged. “Perhaps. As I said, we would have obeyed. The backwash from the projector irradiates us, you know, and makes us truthful, honest and conscientious. But with the Ahrimanic servitors it is another matter, and there I can well believe that Klystar miscalculated. It is lucky you did not fall into their hands, for one can imagine how it is with them, steeped in deceit, selfishness and hatred.