Sandy was already nodding. “I see. It’s as if the object attracts the power beam to itself.”

“You’ve got it. The technique was used in the space-defense systems for self-targeting of radiation weapons.” Hunt grinned. “So I suppose MacArthur was right in a way about poor old Ayultha drawing down powers on himself that he didn’t understand. They had somebody in the crowd with a wand like this, and a compact, weapons-grade projector aimed from somewhere nearby-there were enough high buildings all around the place. It could have been dismantled in a few minutes.”

“Well, I guess it’s a pretty persuasive way of telling the opposition to look for other ways of making a living,” Sandy said. “And enough of the natives seem to have been impressed, whatever the Ganymeans are trying to tell them.”

Hunt nodded. “I agree. That’s why I admire Shilohin for trying this, and I wish her all the best with it. But between you and me, I think she’s wasting her time.”

They came to where the others were waiting. Shilohin was just finishing an explanation to MacArthur and his group. Hunt wasn’t sure how the Ganymeans had persuaded them to be here, for they were wearing expressions like those of the bishops who didn’t want to look through Galileo’s telescope. And Hunt could see MacArthur’s point: This was his chance to become the Great Panjandrum of the Spiral, and he wasn’t about to throw it away for anybody. Hunt had tried explaining as much to the Ganymeans, but the consensus among them had been to give reason a chance to prevail.

Shilohin turned and indicated Hunt with a hand. “This is Dr. Hunt, a visiting Terran scientist, who will show you the process. It really is very straightforward.”

Hunt held up the short, black rod. “This is a low-power portable laser. It emits light just like an ordinary flashlamp, but in a tighter beam.” He moved his arm in a random motion. “The light from it will be reflected in all directions off anything that I point it at, just as some light from a flashlamp is reflected into your eyes from any object that the lamp illuminates. That’s how you see it.” He aimed at one of the queesals about ten feet from him, centering the red dot produced by an auxiliary registration beam. “So a minute fraction of it will reach the projector up at the far end there, where Sandy and I just came from. When it does, the power beam from the projector will follow the reverse path back to where the reflection came from. Watch.” He pressed a button, and the fruit exploded in a fiery flash.

“Note that it isn’t necessary to aim or realign the projector,” Shilohin commented. “The beam retraces the path of the reflected ray automatically.”

Hunt demonstrated the fact by vaporizing two more queesals, chosen wide apart to subtend an impressively large angle from where the projector was situated. Thardan and Sandy had moved well away from the equipment, and it was clear even from that distance that nobody at the far end had touched anything. Hunt held out the hand laser toward the Jevlenese. “Anyone else care to try?”

There was a short, prickly silence. Nobody moved to take up the offer. Then MacArthur marched past Hunt to where the nearest of the intact queesals was standing, and removed it from its support with a flourish. He turned to face the onlookers, tossed the fruit down on the floor, and stomped it to pulp with a single blow from his foot. “There are many ways of destroying a queesal,” he declared. “I have just as validly proved that Ayultha was killed by a giant foot from the sky.” Some of the followers began laughing, pointing at Hunt and Shilohin. One of them picked up another of the queesals and took a bite from it.

“No, look. He was swallowed by a mouth that appeared in the ground.”

MacArthur glowered contemptuously. “Don’t be deceived by their tricks. They try to conceal what they cannot explain.”

“If you know of something different, give us your explanation,” Shilohin challenged. But it did no good.

“You Ganymeans think you know so much,” MacArthur spat. “But I tell you there are realities that your lever-and-cogwheel minds could never grasp. I have seen realms beyond your comprehension. Things that defy all your laws, which you think the universe will follow for your convenience.”

“Where?” Shilohin retorted, getting exasperated. “Where have you seen such things? At worlds light-years away? I doubt it. The only things you’ll find there are Ganymean starships.”

“Bah! Go as far as you will with your toys, it’s still the same plane. But there are other realms within!”

“Nonsense. Within what? Say what you mean for once.”

At that moment, a call-tone sounded in Hunt’s ear, and ZORAC spoke. “Do you have a second?”

“What is it?”

“Garuth is back from Thurien. He’d like a word with you if you can get away.”

Relieved at the chance to extricate himself, Hunt caught Sandy’s eye and motioned her across. “Make my apologies,” he muttered. “I have to slip away. Garuth wants to see me about something.”

“Sure… I guess this wasn’t any big surprise, eh?” Sandy said.

“The Ganymeans can write it off as a lesson in human psychology,” Hunt answered.

Before their defeat in the Pseudowar, the leaders of the previous regime on Jevlen had, as part of their plans for the Jevlenese Federation, embarked on a secret armaments-manufacturing program to enable them to deal with their ancient Cerian rivals, who had become the Terrans. To conceal their intentions from the Thuriens, they concentrated this war industry on a remote, lifeless planet called Uttan, far away in another star system. Since the Federation’s demise, Uttan’s power-generation and production facilities had been shut down, and the planet occupied by a Thurien caretaker force. The proposition with which Eubeleus had approached Calazar had to do with Uttan, and was of a totally unexpected nature.

“He says that he sees the situation on Jevlen deteriorating, and that bloodshed is a distinct possibility,” Garuth said after Hunt had closed the door and sat down. “Being a person of compassion and nonviolence who has dedicated himself to the spiritual advancement of his fellow men, he can’t sit by without making some effort to prevent it.”

“I see.” Hunt’s tone carried the conviction of a policeman being told that the violin case with the submachine gun inside it must have been a wrong bag picked up at the airport.

Garuth made a gesture which conveyed that he was just reporting what had happened. “But the Thuriens were impressed. Eubeleus said he wants to clear the way for Jevlen’s full recovery and reform as speedily as possible. For the greater good and well-being of all, he is prepared to renounce all claims on Jevlen and remove himself and his Axis followers from the scene to find their own niche elsewhere. Jevlen will be freed from the threat of open strife erupting between the two major cults, and the Spiral will be left to work out its relations with the other cults in whatever way suits them.”

“And, of course, the Thuriens wouldn’t want there to be any doubts as to their own reasonableness,” Hunt said.

“Er, quite. After spending six months on Earth, I think I can say that they don’t have the nose for suspecting insincere motives, yet.”

“Okay, so exactly what is this Eubeleus offering to do?”

“His proposal is that Uttan would be stripped of its military potential, and the planet bioformed into a habitable condition for assignment to the Axis of Light as its own sovereign world. It would become a spiritual retreat, open to all of sincere intent, who come in search of truth. He says he got the inspiration from hearing about Earth’s monasteries. The Axis would pay its way by managing Uttan’s industrial capacity as a supply facility, converted to peaceful ends.” Garuth tossed out a hand. “There it is. I detect that your enthusiasm is what the English would call somewhat less than total.”