The Short Life Part 11

Are you ready?"

"No--wait. I must know what all this is leading to!"

"We have so little time! Well, then, it is leading to broken hearts, to hatred, and to injustice. Perhaps to martyrdom, perhaps to glory. If my plans fail, your lot will be public anathema as a fool or a murderer, for I will prohibit you from ever clearing yourself by speaking the truth about it."

"Who would believe it!"

"Enough would become curious. A little research along the right lines and you would prematurely learn your own secret. Then a race of mad demiG.o.ds would be loosed through the void, an all-conquering scourge instead of a blessing. I would sooner have your whole race die with your very existence unsuspected, than have you live in infamy, the unchecked tyrants of the stars. Not even the Challon could stand against you, nor could they coerce a single one of you whose whole potential had been released."

"Then what hope--"

"Timmy's newly-awakened mind will be completely sane. The aids I have given it may keep it sufficiently sane for the next few years, despite infection on all sides. In those years you will watch over him and acc.u.mulate the funds that will be needed. That will not be difficult.

You must buy the lands surrounding the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p and build a laboratory where you will conduct some dangerous experiments, thus explaining the need for an isolated location. The laboratory is only a blind. The s.h.i.+p must be freed from the swamp and repaired in some minor respects, then an 'accidental explosion' one night will destroy the buildings to cover the take-off. Timmy will be presumed killed in the explosion. His parents will grieve, the public may blame you, and you will sink into obscurity. You may live long enough to learn whether Timmy ever succeeded in reaching Challon in a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p not designed for his race.

My memories and implanted commands will constantly guide and instruct him--"

"How ... how old must he be?"

"As young as possible. As soon as all is ready. Tomorrow, if that were possible."

"A child!"

"For at least a little while he will be more than the equal of a 'good'

man. Child, or youth, or man, I will free him from fear and loneliness on the long voyage. If he reaches Challon, they will understand and perhaps not think I have blundered too badly. They will heal him, study him, free him. Then it will be his problem to free his race. If you are very lucky, you may still be alive at that time."

"And if he never reaches--"

"You will never know. Are you ready?"

Phil looked desperately at the setting sun and the long, long shadows, as though he were a doomed man awaiting execution.

"Get on with it," he said huskily.

Very little happened. There was a small lapse of time during which an observer would have seen certain lines of tension vanish almost magically from the man's face--might even have thought that some years seemed to drop from his age. Presently the man roused himself, stretching with the careless vigor of a youth as he experienced a serene peace of mind that he had not known since he was very young indeed. He glanced casually at the boy seated near him--a boy who looked at the world with an air of fleeting puzzlement--then dropped on his knees and cradled an ugly, grizzled head in his arms. A last flicker enlivened the eyes and a dry tongue touched his hand just once.

That was all.

THE END