Closed System

by Zach Hughes

Gorben looked at his companion. Both wereyoung, physically fit. Well-developed muscles toldPat they were not unacquainted with some form ofphysical work. "The one who flies from the starsspeaks our language."

  "Yes," Pat said, and added, "Why does that sur­prise you?"

  The silent man's face went pale then. He looked at Gorben, his mouth open, something akin to fearin his eyes. "Only the gods," he whispered.

  "Yes," Gorben said. With a swiftness that startled Pat, the two youngmen kicked their feet backward and fell to lie onthe ground before him, heads nodding. "Welcome,Honored One," Gorben said. "We pray that you come in friendship."

  "I come in friendship," Pat said. He put hishand on Gorben's shoulder. "Please rise," he said."This is unnecessary." They rose, looking at him with awe. "Then youhave come, at last?" Gorben said.

  "I am here," Pat said. "May you, Honored One, give your blessings toourDorchlunt," Gorben said. "You will want to talk with our elder."

  "Yes," Pat said. So they had reverted to primi­tivism, clinging to an antique language, space lostto them, perhaps even the memory of it, and hewas being greeted as, if not a god, at least a pow­erful friend.

  "Please come, then," Gorben said. Pat gave the computer orders to buttonSkimmerup tight. When the outer hatch closed, Gorben andhis companion jumped in nervousness, but Patsmiled and said, "It's all right. Don't worry."

  A middle-aged woman was standing in the doorof the nearest cabin as they approached. She wore a shapeless dress which fell to mid-thigh.

  "He has come at last, Mother," Gorben shouted. The woman's eyes went wide. She fell to theground and began to nod her head to Pat. It wasgetting downright embarrassing. It was the firsttime he'd ever been a god, and he wasn't too fond of the idea.

  The woman, mother to Gorben and probably theother young man, fell in behind them. On the wayto the center of the village they accumulated oth­ers who first fell down in worship and then fol­lowed in awed silence.

  From a cabin at the center of the village a white-haired, close-shaven, distinguished old man cameto meet them.

  "He has come, Elder," Gorben shouted jubilantly. "Welcome, Honored One," the village elder said,bowing. It was a relief to Pat not to have the oldman fall on his face and worship. "We have longawaited your coming."

  "I am honored to be here, Elder," Pat said. "But perhaps I am not who you think I am. May we talk in privacy?" The elder, he reasoned, would be thewisest man in the village. Study of a primitivesociety might

  be interesting, if he had the time,but he'd come a long way to get some answers.

  "Of course, Honored One," the elder said. Hestepped aside and bowed, motioning with his handfor Pat to proceed him through the open doorwayto the cabin. Pat took a couple of steps, and two sounds came to him at once. First, the beep of his communicator. He lifted it from his belt quickly, hearing as he did, a low moan of surprise from thecrowd on the village square.

  "Speak to me," he said to the computer.

  "Alert, alert," the old man said. "Unidentifiedvessels—" And then there was silence. The crowdmoaned. Pat turned and went rigid.

  There, high up, hulls reflecting the afternoonsun, rode a battle fleet, ship after ship, huge dreadnaughts, cruisers, little destroyers, supplyships, auxiliaries. And even as he took a deep breathhe saw a ship separate from the fleet and fallswiftly, under power. The crowd around him, in­cluding the elder, had fallen to the dirt in fear and worship.

  It took only seconds. There was nothing he coulddo. The falling ship grew in size, showed the out­lines of one of the new Greyhound Class spacetugs. At least, he thought, they weren't going toblastSkimmer.

  The Greyhound's fall slowed swiftly, the skipperstopping her not more than five feet fromSkim­mer's squat hull, and then she was lifting,Skimmerenclosed in her field, while the people moaned and worshiped.

  Five minutes later the tug was back in position,just a tiny, gleaming dot. And then the fleet blinked simultaneously and was gone.

  "Well," Pat told himself, "it looks as if I'm goingto have plenty of time to get acquainted."

  "Rise, people," he shouted in German. "Arise,for those who fly to the stars have gone."

  SEVEN

  Pat had the position of honor at a well-made wooden table. The boards of the table did notbend, although there was enough food there toexcuse them if they had. The main meat dish wasroasted pig, a standard UP-type swine. It was deli­cious, and not surprising, for the old colony shipshad taken everything needed to establish a life­style on a new planet. Only the vegetable disheswere different, and not all of them. There weregreen beans which tasted as if they had been cookedon a UP planet, and, of course, potatoes. The saladwas different, spicy, tangy, and quite good.

  Pat had had his private talk with the villageelder, whose name was Adrian Kleeper. The talkhad been

  quite revealing. Kleeper was a very piousman, sprinkling his talk with references not onlyto God, but to a hoard of gods, gods in such profu­ sion that Pat, a monotheist and no scholar of com­parative religions, was confused.

  The important things that Pat learned from histalk with the elder were that the citizens ofDorchlunt, as they called their village complexandthe planet, had never heard of the UnitedPlanets, that they considered him to be a minorangel sent down by the fleet of angels which they'dseen, and that although their tools, weapons, andliving utensils were primitive and self-made, theywere not awed in the slightest by Pat's hand weap­ons and personal equipment.

  Pat grinned wryly when he learned that he wasnot a god, but just an angel. Well, so fleeting is fame and honor.

  Before the meal, the elder led the selected com­pany, which included the handsome young manGorben, in a prayer of thanksgiving. Pat countedreferences to at least ten deities. He recognized the names of only three, God, Allah, and Buddha, all, incidentally, different names for the same God who had come with the children of Old Earth into space.As an angel, he assumed that he would be ex­pected to know all about the odd gods mentionedby Adrian Kleeper, so he couldn't ask questions.

  Eating in silence seemed to be the custom. Atlast, everyone seemed to have his fill. There wereno women present. Women had served the food,and women brought earthenware mugs of a verygood and very potent beer after the meal, and,after taking an extended drink, the elder leaned back, burped into his hand, and smiled at Pat.

  "Now, Honored One, perhaps you will give us news of theforfarvelts."

  The ancestry worlds?

  "All is well there," Pat said. Kleeper lookeddisappointed.

  "Honored One," Gorben said, "has the time come,then?"

  "It is near," Pat said. He was walking on thinice. The banquet hall of the elder's cabin housed atleast twenty of the finest specimens of mankindhe'd seen in one place, all vital, handsome, strongyoung men except Kleeper, and even though hewas in middle age, Pat would not have wanted tohave to fight him hand to hand.

  He had a sudden inspiration. "I have been sent,my friends, to live among you, to observe you, to determine your state of readiness."

  "Ah," Kleeper said. "That is good."

  So far so good, Pat thought. They were hand­some, intelligent people, but theywere primitive.He had no doubt that they had built up a fearsomelist of laws and tabus. "My friends, as an inspec­tor, perhaps you will see me do and hear me saythings which, without knowledge, will seem oddto you. I ask your patience, and ask you to remem­ber that there is purpose in all things."

  That should cover any goofs, he thought.

  "Ah, yes," Kleeper said."The way of the godsare, indeed, mysterious."

  As if to prove it, Pat's communicator buzzed athim. With a surge of excitement—had they re­ leased the Skimmer? —he thumbed it, and held itbefore his face, although that was unnecessary.

  "Captain Howe," a male voice said, in English,"there is no haste, but when you have finishedyour meal, will you please make your way to thetemple." It wasn't a request, it was an order.

  "Ahhhhh," sighed the young men at the table.

  "You are
called?" asked Kleeper. "We had hopedthat you would be our honored guest for afestival.The young women are working, even now."

  "There is no haste," Pat said. Well, that's whatthe fellow had said.

  "Splendid," Kleeper said, clapping his hands.All the young men rose. Gorben, apparently, hadbeen appointed, or self-appointed, as Pat's guide and companion. He led Pat into the village square.Upon Pat's emergence from the cabin a band—odd-looking instruments, but sounding familiar, strings, drums, woodwinds, brass—began a sprightly mel­ody and a dozen very pretty blond girls in shortembroidered skirts and white blouses danced in perfect unison.

  Something had been nagging at Pat. It crystal­lized in his mind as he sat in a place of honor and watched the dances of the girls, the semimilitaryposturings of the young men. He was in a primi­tive village, on a primitive planet. Bread was bakedin mud ovens. The cabins were heated by wood burned in a fireplace, and lit by lamps which usedanimal oil as a fuel. Water was drawn by windlassfrom a community deep well. The sanitary facili­ties consisted of privies built from rough, unpaintedplanks. And yet the people seemed to be uniformlyhealthy. And they were all much too uniformlybeautiful. And where were the children? Only afew, not more than a half-dozen, ranging in agefrom a babe in arms to a young girl in her earlyteens, were in the square.

  When the dancing ended, the impromptu festi­val over, Pat told Gorben that he wanted to walk.Gorben offered to accompany him. Pat nodded.They walked the road to the next village, wherePat found similar conditions. Apparently, his pres­ence was known, for the people of the village wereout en masse to bow low, some to fall on theirfaces in worship.

  As the hour grew late, he walked with Gorbenback to Gorben's village. "I will stay here tonight,"he said. He'd been thinking about that voice onthe communicator. If they wanted him before hechose to go to the temple, which he had suspectedto be the stone building at the hub of the spokelike roads connecting the villages, they could come andget him.

  He took food with the elder, and was escorted,after beer and more talk, which did little to an­swer any of his persistent questions, to a neatlyfurnished bedroom.

  He awoke before dawn, awakened by movementin the house. He dressed quickly. Kleeper andGorben were at table.

  "We thought to let you sleep, Honored One," Gorben said.

  It wasn't coffee they were drinking, but it had atang, and a pleasant taste. Hen's eggs and baconmade up the main meal, with a chewy, tasty bread.And, breakfast over, one of Pat's unstated ques­tions had an answer.

  "Perhaps you will honor us," Kleeper said, hav­ing taken a carved wooden chest from a cabinet,"by

  distributing the morning prayer tablets."

  "My honor," Pat said.

  The sun was just above the horizon. All the in­habitants of the village were assembled in thesquare. They looked just too damned bright and cheerful for early morning, and Pat had to force himself to smile.

  "One tablet each, of each individual color, toeach person, Honored One," Kleeper said, as a lineformed quickly in front of the low steps to theelder's cabin.

  Inside the carved wooden box, five compartmentsheld the latest in food-supplement tablets, some marked with the brand name of a Zedeian nutri­tional firm. And Pat recognized one of the tabletsas a shotgun disease preventive, good for keepingthe human system free of just about every known disease-causing organism. Mystery number onesolved. The people of Dorchlunt were physicallybeautiful and unbelievably healthy because, eachmorning, they received dosages of the best preven­tive medicine and the finest in food supplements.

  "Now, Honored One," Gorben said, when thelittle ceremony was over and everyone except thebabe in arms had been pilled and tableted, "Iimagine you will leave us."

  Pat looked at him quickly to see if Gorben hadbeen detailed to be sure he obeyed orders. Theyoung man showed no signs of it.

  "Yes, it is time I paid my respects," he said.

  He walked alone through three villages towardthe stone building. The people bowed, greeted him respectfully. It was a lovely morning. Althoughrain was unknown on Dorchlunt, there had beenmorning dew, and in the field alongside the roadmen were busy pumping water from the deep wells. A sophisticated system of irrigation ditches distri­buted the water to crops, which, in the year-roundgrowing season, were at various stages of maturity.

  The earthen road changed to a stone-paved ave­nue as he neared the temple. The grounds werewell landscaped. Patches of flowering plants, somefamiliar, some not, made for a pleasant vista. Thenative trees of Dorchlunt were squat and thick oftrunk, and had leathery, large leaves.

  Two young men in short leather skirts, armedwith well-decorated longbows, guarded the stone temple gates. The guards, Pat felt, were purelyceremonial, since anyone could step over the lowwall at any point and approach the temple bywalking pathways through flowering patches ofvegetation.

  There were no guards at the temple door. Hewalked into a large room, lit by skylights, andhalted. The room was at least fifty feet in width,and quite long. The walls were lined with objects obviously taken from the abandoned colony ship.Spacesuits had been stuffed with something sothat they stood alone. Control panels, with buttonsand switches, had been rather artfully built intothe stone walls. And on the wall there were paint­ings, all of them in deplorable condition with flak­ing paint and large areas of damage. They wereportraits, likenesses of people dressed in the stylesof long ago, a thousand years ago.

  Pat walked through an archway and was stunnedby an array of sculpture along the walls. The me­dium was stone in various colors. An almost nudewoman posed with an antique projectile hand weapon. A handsome man wore a military uni­form painted on the stone statue with great skill,but with the paint fading, flaking. There was anameplate for each statue, and upon close exami­nation Pat saw that they were called gods. TheGod Schmidt. The Goddess Helga.

  In a display of conspicuous waste on a planetwith no surface water, a fountain bubbled andsang in the center of the second area. Pat walkedaround it. A man in a dark robe stood quietly inthe next archway, hands folded in front of him.

  "The goddess has been expecting you," he said, with respect in his voice. He turned, and Pat fol­lowed him through a door which closed behindthem. Then another door, which was plated in hammered gold. The inner sanctum was window-less, light coming from one skylight and two oillamps on columns set on either side of two "thrones."The thrones were also from the abandoned ship,the command chairs from the control bridge. Theywere still mounted on their swivels, and their backswere to Pat.

  He glanced around. Most of the gold from theshielding of the blink generator had been utilizedin the inner sanctum. The walls were armoredwith light metal from the ship. Silent, lifeless viewscreens had been built into the walls as deco­ration. Ship's instruments were grouped around thescreens in neat patterns.

  The priest who had led Pat into the closed throneroom bowed to him, backed away, and went out, shutting the gold-clad door behind him.

  "Anybody home?" Pat asked, speaking to thehigh backs of the command chairs. One chair be­gan to turn. "Ha?" Pat said, for there was thequiet purr of an electric motor. In the temple, atleast, there was power. And this brought a quickthought. The power source was damned wellshielded, for he'd flown right over the templeinSkimmer and had been unable to detect any­thing.

  The motor hummed, and the command chair turned slowly. He saw her profile first. Her hair had been swept up into a neat, shimmering, au­burn mass, and the mass was topped by a diademof gold and jewels. She was dressed in flowing royal purple, and the material was definitely notthe homespun vegetable fibers of the clothing wornby the villagers.

  Literally stunned by her beauty, Pat was unable to speak. The command chair turned to face him.She looked down at him with a smile which seemedto enlarge her mouth.

  "Hello, Pat," she said.

  He had to swallow, then moisten his lips. "Hello,Corinne."

  "Now that you're here, you'll have to stay, you know."

  "With you?" he asked.
>
  "Yes," she whispered, rising, gathering her long,purple skirt in one hand to run down the steps ofthe throne dais toward him.

  EIGHT

  The purple material, of Corinne's long gown wassilky-smooth. It clung to her, and allowed the soft warmth of her to come through to Pat's hands.Her lips were more than he had remembered, andthere was an urgency in her kiss which sent asurge of elation through him. Something of valuelost, then reattained, increases in value. With herin his arms he forgot, for the moment, all that hadhappened between them in the past.

  After a long, delicious time, she pushed him away,her small hands against his chest. "You shouldn't be here," she said.

  Sanity returned to him. This small, exquisitely constructed lady had drugged him, had comman­deered his ship and altered restricted computertapes in a way which had almost cost him his shipand his license. She'd stolen Murphy's Stone. Beau­tiful she was, and he loved her. He knew that now,his mouth still tasting her kiss, but she had someexplaining to do.

  "Come," she said, taking his hand. "It wouldn'tdo for the priests to see their goddess being sohuman."

  "Just what goddess are you?" he asked.

  "I am Hera, Queen of Heaven, and Inana, Astarte,Isis, plus a few others."

  "You'll have to introduce me," Pat said. "I don'tknow any of those ladies."

  "That's not surprising," Corinne said, as sheopened a door leading into an apartment whichwas well lit and furnished with modern items. "Itwas strange to me, too, until I read the sacredbooks."

  "I'd like to read them."

  "Perhaps you'll have the chance." She flowedtoward a bar, turned. "I have only Taratwo wines."

  He grinned wryly. "The last time you gave me adrink it hit me pretty hard."

  "Pat, I'm sorry. That was necessary."

  "I think I'd like you to start explaining now whyit was," he said.

  She sighed, poured two glasses of red wine,flowed to stand in front of him. "I will explain,"she said. "First let me say that I'm so happy to see you. Really."

  He wanted to believe. He took the glass. "No funny Zedeian drugs this time?"