the problem?” Now the old man seemed, to be the uncertain one. It was as if, having gone this far, he had exhausted his limited stock of courage and didn’t know whether he could proceed. Finally he started to explain:
“My name is Kunosh. I am ... ah ... an official of . . . my people here in Deimos. Sort of like a . . . chairman or maybe a sheriff ... or something like both, I can’t quite explain here. We are a small group of people and we live here in the interior of this little moon. I can’t tell you how we came here because I am not allowed to and we don’t have time for it. You must take my word for it. There are several thousands of us living here.”
The old man stopped, groping for words. He twisted the weapon in his hands, forgetting entirely about keeping it pointed at Nelson. But the young man realized he had more to gain by listening now than by attempting to wrest it from him. Kunosh went on again:
“You must understand, young Earthling, that we don’t bear anyone any ill will. We never harmed a soul, we never want to hurt anybody. I must tell you so that you will know this, I must tell you again we are opposed to the use of force. We never want to fight anyone, we never want to hurt anyone. Certainly we cannot stand to kill anyone. None of us hurt your friend. We couldn’t, we just simply couldn’t, couldn’t! It’s what we believe, it’s what we feel!”
Nelson looked at the weapon in Kunosh’s hands. He thought to himself that not so long ago Kunosh was apparently willing to use it on him. The old man seemed to read his thoughts.
“My threatening you with this . . . ers-gun . . . was the most dreadful thing I ever had to do in my life, believe me. I think I would have died if you had made me shoot it!
“But now that you are listening to me, you must listen more. There are a few bad men among our people who have lost faith. They have slipped from the strict tenets of their ancestors and they will use force! From what you told me, they have already done so. They have become dangerous to us, to you. In our eyes they are turned monsters, degenerates!”
The old man stopped, overcome by the horror of his own thought. In a moment he continued, his eyes gleaming with the anger of a fanatic. “These bad men have slipped in among us and have seized control of our little moon. They have captured us all with their violence! We are all driven frantic with the thought of the dreadful things they are planning to do! And you are now the only one who could overcome these dreadful men!”
Nelson got to his feet. He wasn’t afraid of the old man now. He didn’t understand such a people as these who would not even defend themselves, but he saw that he had a chance. “Are these bad men the ones who just came down from the surface, the ones who were tracking me?”
Kunosh nodded. “They must be. I am sure they are the ones you are hunting. Here,” he said suddenly, thrusting the strange ers-gun into Nelson’s hand, “you take this. I don’t like even to hold it. My people have not touched such a thing as this since my ancestors put it into the museum of barbarian horrors—oh, it must be many thousands and thousands of your years ago.
“I know you will help us. Come with me, I will lead you to the bad men and you will get rid of them for us. Then you will have brought your friend justice and we will be freed of these dreadful throwbacks.”
The young man hefted the strange gun. It looked odd but it did look deadly. If it was indeed as old as Kunosh had said, what an amazing vista that opened for speculation! Then it must be that these moon-dwellers were the ancient Martians! Who else could have had a heritage from so far back that was obviously mechanically in advance of Earth?
In his eagerness Kunosh had not waited to hear whether Nelson agreed to his terms. The young man made no effort to remind him. Now that he had the weapon and a
“My name is Kunosh. I am ... ah ... an official of . . . my people here in Deimos. Sort of like a . . . chairman or maybe a sheriff ... or something like both, I can’t quite explain here. We are a small group of people and we live here in the interior of this little moon. I can’t tell you how we came here because I am not allowed to and we don’t have time for it. You must take my word for it. There are several thousands of us living here.”
The old man stopped, groping for words. He twisted the weapon in his hands, forgetting entirely about keeping it pointed at Nelson. But the young man realized he had more to gain by listening now than by attempting to wrest it from him. Kunosh went on again:
“You must understand, young Earthling, that we don’t bear anyone any ill will. We never harmed a soul, we never want to hurt anybody. I must tell you so that you will know this, I must tell you again we are opposed to the use of force. We never want to fight anyone, we never want to hurt anyone. Certainly we cannot stand to kill anyone. None of us hurt your friend. We couldn’t, we just simply couldn’t, couldn’t! It’s what we believe, it’s what we feel!”
Nelson looked at the weapon in Kunosh’s hands. He thought to himself that not so long ago Kunosh was apparently willing to use it on him. The old man seemed to read his thoughts.
“My threatening you with this . . . ers-gun . . . was the most dreadful thing I ever had to do in my life, believe me. I think I would have died if you had made me shoot it!
“But now that you are listening to me, you must listen more. There are a few bad men among our people who have lost faith. They have slipped from the strict tenets of their ancestors and they will use force! From what you told me, they have already done so. They have become dangerous to us, to you. In our eyes they are turned monsters, degenerates!”
The old man stopped, overcome by the horror of his own thought. In a moment he continued, his eyes gleaming with the anger of a fanatic. “These bad men have slipped in among us and have seized control of our little moon. They have captured us all with their violence! We are all driven frantic with the thought of the dreadful things they are planning to do! And you are now the only one who could overcome these dreadful men!”
Nelson got to his feet. He wasn’t afraid of the old man now. He didn’t understand such a people as these who would not even defend themselves, but he saw that he had a chance. “Are these bad men the ones who just came down from the surface, the ones who were tracking me?”
Kunosh nodded. “They must be. I am sure they are the ones you are hunting. Here,” he said suddenly, thrusting the strange ers-gun into Nelson’s hand, “you take this. I don’t like even to hold it. My people have not touched such a thing as this since my ancestors put it into the museum of barbarian horrors—oh, it must be many thousands and thousands of your years ago.
“I know you will help us. Come with me, I will lead you to the bad men and you will get rid of them for us. Then you will have brought your friend justice and we will be freed of these dreadful throwbacks.”
The young man hefted the strange gun. It looked odd but it did look deadly. If it was indeed as old as Kunosh had said, what an amazing vista that opened for speculation! Then it must be that these moon-dwellers were the ancient Martians! Who else could have had a heritage from so far back that was obviously mechanically in advance of Earth?
In his eagerness Kunosh had not waited to hear whether Nelson agreed to his terms. The young man made no effort to remind him. Now that he had the weapon and a
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