A Gift For Terra Part 4

"Hold it, hold it! 'They'--who the h.e.l.l are 'they'? You can spare the suspense...."

And then there was no more words. The pictures formed in his mind as before, only stronger, now, and there were no details left out.

The weapons of war had been built, not by the out-System men, but by their hosts. The plans had not proven too difficult to follow....

The new knowledge was not h.o.a.rded, was not held under jealous guard by those who had given it, but by those to whom it had been given. One man from another; one group of men from another. States and nations from each other.

Until there was no trust left on all the planet.

There were the wars, then.

And when they were over, the new masters had established their first beachhead in the new System.

"But, it was only a beachhead, and had been only intended as such--" The pictures broke off; the unspoken words resumed. "Your planet was the ultimate target, but at first, your civilization was not adequately advanced to fall prey to their technique. Their weapon is knowledge, but the potentialities of that knowledge must be understood by a people before it can be effectively used to destroy them.

"The rest must be self-evident. After we destroyed ourselves, they sank their infectious, hollow roots into our planet. And from then, investigated your Earth from time to time ... and waited....

"Waited, because they knew you would be coming. And they knew what kind of men you would be. Strong men, with the light of the stars in your eyes. Yet confused, weak men, with the darkness of suspicion and jealousy still in your souls. Such are humans, after all....

"That is why we stopped you, Johnny Love. Once your blast-off ogee had carried you beyond the curvature of their horizon and brought you over us, our psibeam was effective and theirs were not. We are sorry about your s.h.i.+p. Once they realize that you were under our influence, and were returning rather than taking their precious data to your people, they zeroed-in with those d.a.m.nable guided juggernauts--"

"It wasn't you, then. You mean they--"

"There is little that they cannot do. Destruction is their forte. They could not keep us from preventing your taking their 'gift' to your people, but they could keep that 'gift' from falling into our hands--and they did. They do not always win. But they never lose."

"But I--" Johnny's thoughts raced. The s.h.i.+p, gone. And Harrison and Janes, Lamson, and Fowler. They would be landing in a few days. They--

"Yes," the thoughts of the true Martians before him answered. "And they will be given a 'gift' for Terra as you were. If your friends return successfully to your planet with that 'gift'--then--"

The thought was not completed. But it did not have to be.

A beachhead was one thing. These scattered, struggling people who had once been masters of Mars might one day unseat it, for they were not yet beaten people, and their will to survive was yet strong. But beyond that--

Earth taken, the System taken.

There it was.

There was a sudden coldness inside him now that the fact had crystallized, had become real. Here was no fantasy; no wild surmise.

They left him in silence while he thought, their psibeam turned away, now.

Harrison and Janes. Lamson, and Fowler. Had to stop them. Stop them, and then somehow, get home. He ached for home.

He thought about Ferris, who had given his life for this thing.

No, Ferris would not be going home. Ferris was dead.

He signalled for the psibeam to be turned toward him again.

"You'd have to know their positions out there to make contact, wouldn't you?" They did not answer. He worked to get the words formed, and there was a fleeting thought of a green, lush planet far away, its wide streets and rolling fields bathed in warm sunlight. "I can figure 'em,"

he said. "I know blast-off schedules, speeds. I know the works! _Those_ things they had in the books. Then you guys can do the rest with--that thing. Right?"

They answered him, then.

"Thank you," they said. And that was all.

"Answer me!" the General barked again. "You, Janes! Lamson!

Fowler--Harrison! For the last time, what happened out there?"

The four stood silently before the nervous figure of their commander, and it was Fowler who finally spoke.

"Plan III, sir, as we've already said. Condition Untenable--Return...."

"That is all you can say?"

"That is--all, sir."

The General turned away. There was frustration and anger in his face, and it hid the fear beneath it like a mask. Plan III. It would be Plan III for a long time yet.

It was the thing he saw in the faces of the four men that told him that.

There had been too many giant steps, too fast. He had seen this thing in the faces of men before, but never so nakedly.

One day, perhaps, men could think of Plan I again. One day, but not now.

He turned back to the four, and looked once more into their faces.

Plan III. Condition Untenable.

"Dismissed!" the General said.