Decker II was walking down the esplanade toward them.
“Why, that is Decker,” said the cardinal. “And it cannot be. Decker’s dead. I said a mass for him.…”
“Later, Your Eminence, I’ll explain,” said Tennyson. “This is a different Decker. Another Decker. I know it is confusing.”
They stood and waited for Decker II. Tennyson stepped out several paces to meet him.
“I suppose,” said Decker, “that this is Vatican.”
“Yes, it is,” said Tennyson. “I am glad to see you.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” said Decker, “that back there, at the end, it was getting very hairy. You damn near got us killed.”
“I almost—”
“You were dealing with a maniac,” said Decker. “An alien maniac. Aliens alone are bad enough, but—”
“Yet you were one with him. You seemed to be his man. What was it you called it—a triad?”
“My friend,” said Decker, “in that hornet’s nest back there your first thought is survival. To survive you do what you must. You have to be fast on your feet and shifty in your attitude and you must go along.”
“I can understand,” said Tennyson.
“And now I must speak to the man in charge,” said Decker. “You’re not the man in charge, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” Tennyson told him. “The man in charge is His Holiness, on the wall up there. But I think you had best speak to Cardinal Theodosius. You’ll get along with him better than you would with His Holiness. When you speak to the cardinal, you address him as Your Eminence. It’s not necessary, but he likes it.”
He took Decker by the arm and marched him up to Theodosius.
“Your Eminence,” he said, “this is Thomas Decker II. He desires to speak with you.”
“Decker II,” said the cardinal, “you drop in on us unceremoniously and with no warning whatsoever, but I’ll be glad to listen.”
“I speak for an alien being who is a fugitive from his home planet, Your Eminence,” said Decker. “He is that egg-shaped bubble out there and I call him Smoky, although he has a more proper name.”
“It seems to me,” said Theodosius, “that I have seen this Smoky, or one of his fellows, a number of years ago. And now, please, eliminate all the palaver and get on with what you want to tell me.”
“Smoky throws himself upon your mercy, Eminence,” said Decker, “and begs sanctuary of you. He can’t return to Center, for if he did, his life would be forfeit. He is truly a homeless creature and fallen from very high estate. He is quite humble now.”
“He sounds in bad shape,” said Theodosius.
“He truly is, Your Eminence. He petitions you—”
“Enough of that,” said Theodosius. “Now, tell me, is this place he fled from known as Heaven?”
“Not to my knowledge. I have never heard it called that.”
“Are you aware that one of our Listeners made an attempt to visit your Center—is that what you call it?”
“Yes, Your Eminence, that is what we call it, the Center for Galactic Studies. And, yes, we are aware that someone or something that fitted the description given me by Tennyson of your Listeners had tried to infiltrate the Center, but we frightened it away.”
Tennyson glanced over his shoulder and saw that the equation people had spread out so that Smoky and Haystack stood relatively alone. Hopping frantically toward them was Plopper, making straight for the Bubbly.
It reached a position in front of Smoky and began hopping up and down in place, going very rapidly.
“Oh, my God,” cried Tennyson, “not again!” He lurched around and started running toward the two of them. Behind him he heard the pounding of feet and Decker yelling at him, “Get out of the way, you damn fool! Get out of here!”
Tennyson kept on running. Decker came up beside him and reached out an arm, thrusting at Tennyson, hitting him on the shoulder and sending him sprawling. Tennyson tried to keep his feet beneath him, running hard and side-wise to regain his balance. But it was impossible to stay upright, and he went plunging to the pavement, striking on one shoulder and skidding, finally coming to a stop piled up in a heap.
Decker was yelling at Smoky in the Bubbly language. “No, Smoky! Don’t try it. Haven’t you had enough? You’re finished, I tell you. You are all washed up; you haven’t got a chance.”
Haystack also was bawling at the Bubbly. “You and your goddamned pet! You’ll be the death of us.”
Haystack yelled at Decker. “Get out of the way! The fool is going to do it.”
Decker hurled himself to one side, running desperately.
Plopper blazed. He became a circle of brilliant fire, but the fire was cold. Even where he lay, fallen off to one side, Tennyson felt the bite of it.
But even as this happened, an awful silence fell, cutting off the screaming of the crowd—a silence and a darkness. Tennyson, lying on his back and looking toward the basilica, saw the shaft of darkness projected from the vision plate that had been installed for His Holiness. The shaft of blackness extended out over the esplanade, and within it lay the deepest night. The brilliance of Plopper blinked out and the darkness went away. Plopper was no longer exploding. He lay sprawled on the pavement and did not stir. Haystack had been tipped over on his side and Smoky tipped as well, lying on his face. As Tennyson watched, the Bubbly began a slow crawl up the esplanade, painfully hitching his way along. Theodosius and the Old One stood waiting as Smoky crawled toward them. Decker strode across the pavement and picked up Haystack, setting him on his feet. Plopper was stirring feebly and Decker, going over to him, picked him up by one tentacle and walked slowly down the esplanade, dragging Plopper behind him.
Tennyson hauled himself erect. One shoulder, the one he had fallen on, was sore and there was a throbbing pain in it. He hobbled along lopsidedly as he walked over to join Decker and Haystack.
“He just wouldn’t give up,” said Decker, making a thumb at Smoky. “He is one of those fanatics who never know when they are licked. Even when he was flat on his butt and knew it, he still had to make another try. You know what his motto is? First the galaxy, then the universe.”
“He is mad,” said Tennyson.
“Of a certainty,” said Decker.
“But you stayed with him.”
“As I told you, friend. Survival.”
By now Smoky had reached a position in front of Theodosius. He stopped his crawling and remained face down on the pavement.
Decker spoke to him and Smoky answered in a muffled voice.
“I told you, Eminence,” said Decker, “that he was humble when I spoke to you before. I missed a lick, it seems. But he’s humble now. He’s truly humble now. Take the bastard and lock him up, as tightly as you can. The best way would be to put an end to him.”
“We do not put an end to life,” said Theodosius. “With us, all life is sacred. But we have a place for him. How about the hopper?”
“Throw it in with him. It’s not likely it will live.”
“And the other?”
“You mean Haystack, Eminence?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Haystack’s all right. Harmless. Even decent. I’ll vouch for him.”
“All right, then. We’ll take care of the other two. And please accept my gratitude.”
“Your gratitude?”
“For telling me that one of our Listeners was frightened from your Center.”
The crowd was buzzing again, beginning to pick up steam.
A voice boomed above the chatter.
His Holiness was speaking.
“These proceedings,” he said, “are ended. In due time all the facts in this situation will be taken under careful consideration. The results will be announced at a later time.”
Chapter Sixty-one
They had gathered in Tennyson’s suite, in front of the blazing fire. Tennyson got up to refill Ecuyer’s glass. He said to Theodosius, “It seems to me, Your Eminence, to be inhospit
able to be able to offer you nothing while the rest of us chomp down sandwiches and slosh down the booze.”
The cardinal hunched down more solidly on the stool that Jill had brought in from the kitchen. “It is sufficient,” he said, “to be here, in this circle of friendship before this warming fire. You remember the night I came and you invited me in?”
“Yes, I do,” said Tennyson, “and you couldn’t because you were bringing a summons from His Holiness.”
“That is right, and I have looked forward ever since to an invitation.”
“There is no need to await an invitation,” said Jill. “Drop in any time. You’ll always find a welcome.”
“It seems to have turned out all right,” said Ecuyer. “It looks as if we can pick up where we left off. The Listeners can settle down and start going out.”
“His Holiness said an announcement will be made at a later time,” said Jill. “Do you think there is any chance …”
“None at all,” said Theodosius. “After listening to what the second Decker had to tell us, especially about the Center having been aware of Mary’s visits, I would think there’d be no question. His Holiness, as a matter of fact, would accept lesser proof than what we have. He was more upset than any of us knew by the Heaven business and the proposal to make a Listener a saint. You must remember that he is, basically, a computer, although a most sophisticated one. None of us should have had any doubt where his interest lay.”
“Yet, had it come to a pinch,” said Ecuyer, “he would have ruled against us.”
“He would have done anything to hold Vatican together. And so, I think, would have all the rest of us.”
“There’s still one thing that worries me,” said Ecuyer. “The Bubblies, so-called, did survey this planet. Some centuries ago.”
“There is little need to worry about it,” said Tennyson. “Decker assures me that portions of every survey record still lie in the files and, with new data flooding into the Center all the time, there’s not much likelihood any of them will go digging back. They have no way now of knowing they have a record of the planet.”
“But there are your recreations, Jill II and Jason II. They could tell them the record is in their files. They could tell them where we are.”
“It is a danger, surely,” said Theodosius. “It is a wonder that someone has not nosed us out before. It is a situation that we must accept. We are not entirely defenseless. We don’t talk about it or flaunt it, but you saw what His Holiness did to quell the Plopper. A damping effect. A rather humane weapon, as a matter of fact. It simply squelches everything in its path. We have others.…”
“I was not aware of this,” said Ecuyer.
“Few are,” said Theodosius. “We would use them only under the greatest provocation. From what Decker tells us, the Bubblies must be a vicious race. Each one of them a little island to itself, waiting for the chance to move up a rung or two.”
“Smoky had plans to take over the galaxy and then take aim at the universe,” said Tennyson. “He was mad, of course. He had found this feeble little god and planned to use it as a secret weapon.”
“Only he used it too soon,” said Jill. “Jason, you goaded him into it. Did you have an inkling of what was going on?”
“No, I was just smarting off. I was determined he’d get no information from us. I guess I carried it too far.”
“A good thing for us you did,” said Ecuyer.
“A little god, you say,” said Theodosius. “There are no little gods. There is only one God, or one Principle, whatever you may call it. I am sure of that. One must beware of little gods. There are no such things.”
“The thing we don’t understand,” said Jill, “is that finding, or thinking he had found, a god or any sort would have loomed very large to Smoky. He ascribed it much greater power than he would have otherwise because the Center had become convinced, through its studies, that no spiritual values existed—that all religion and all faith had no basis whatsoever.”
“How true,” said Theodosius. “How true. Always there are those who think that. They stand naked before the universe and glory in their nakedness. Even when we find the true faith that we seek—if we find it—there’ll still be those who will deny it. They will be those who cannot subject themselves to discipline or restraint.”
“How about Decker II?” asked Ecuyer. “What will happen to him?”
“He and Haystack,” said Theodosius, “are being held in-house arrest. They seem harmless enough, but we have to be sure. The only one we need to worry about is Smoky and, where we have him, he’ll not be going anywhere.”
“He wouldn’t go anywhere anyhow,” said Tennyson. “The other Bubblies know by now what he was planning and he wouldn’t dare go back. It was a stroke of genius when Whisperer grabbed hold of Plopper and brought him along. Even if the equation folk hadn’t brought us the other three, Smoky probably would have had a try to seek out Plopper. I don’t know. When I try to think about it, it gets all tangled up. Whisperer maybe has it clear in his mind, but I haven’t, not yet. Whisperer claims he didn’t actually intend to haul Plopper along, but I can’t be certain of that. Whisperer’s thinking can get complicated.”
“It worked out well for us,” said Ecuyer, “that the equation people brought the other three to us. Why do you think they did it?”
“Who can say?” said Jill. “The equation folk are faster on their feet than we ever dreamed they were. I have a feeling—well, I have a feeling.…”
“Go ahead and say it,” said Ecuyer. “We won’t hold you to it.”
“Well, I have a feeling they can look a ways ahead. Into time, I mean.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it for a moment,” said Tennyson. “I wonder if they’re still around. I lost track of them.”
“No, they left,” said Jill. “I don’t know where they went. I’m sure that if we ever need them, Whisperer can sniff them out again.”
“It seems to me,” said Theodosius, “that once again we are back to the Vatican of old. We can take up our work and carry on again. I wonder, Jason, if you’d pour me a glass of booze so we might drink a toast.”
“But, Your Eminence.…”
“I’ll pour it on my chin,” said Theodosius, “and pretend I am drinking it.”
Tennyson went to get another glass and brought it back, filled to the brim with Scotch.
Theodosius took the glass and rose. He held the glass on high.
“To those of us,” he said, “who really kept the faith.”
The others drank the toast.
Theodosius tipped back his head and solemnly poured the liquor on his chin.
About the Author
During his fifty-five-year career, Clifford D. Simak produced some of the most iconic science fiction stories ever written. Born in 1904 on a farm in southwestern Wisconsin, Simak got a job at a small-town newspaper in 1929 and eventually became news editor of the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, writing fiction in his spare time.
Simak was best known for the book City, a reaction to the horrors of World War II, and for his novel Way Station. In 1953 City was awarded the International Fantasy Award, and in following years, Simak won three Hugo Awards and a Nebula Award. In 1977 he became the third Grand Master of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, and before his death in 1988, he was named one of three inaugural winners of the Horror Writers Association’s Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1981 by Clifford D. Simak
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Cover design by Jason Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2414-3
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Clifford D. Simak, Project Pope
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